


Soup Of The Day

by jacaranda_bloom



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis, Candles, Chef Louis, Chef Niall, Chicago, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Just a bit because I could never hurt them, M/M, Major Character Minor Injury, Massage, Strangers to Lovers, Top Harry, Writer Harry, Yes rocks, harry carries louis around a lot, lots and lots of fluff, louis is harry's baby, netflix, numerous mentions of The Princess Bride, rocks, sexy bathtimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-08-28 01:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16714381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacaranda_bloom/pseuds/jacaranda_bloom
Summary: It had been the single minded goal for them since college and seemed simple enough. 1. Study hard. 2. Open their dream restaurant. 3. Take the culinary world by storm.What could possibly go wrong?Or the Restaurant AU where Louis and Niall are chefs, Chicago is windy, and cracking the big time is harder than they ever imagined. But when a mysterious man starts grading Louis' soups by leaving little piles of rocks, could it be just the thing they need to get them on the road to success?





	1. Rocket Man

**Author's Note:**

> So this started out as a Homeless Harry AU but it ended up as something else entirely. I adore the way their characters evolved in this story and have been able to vividly imagine the scenes in my head the whole way through.
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta [ Emma ](https://justsomelarryfics.tumblr.com/), for making sure I didn’t run off the rails too much.
> 
> Thanks for reading and feel free to come find me on Tumblr for a chat at [ jacaranda-bloom ](https://jacaranda-bloom.tumblr.com/) and reblog my [ Tumblr fic post ](https://jacaranda-bloom.tumblr.com/post/182956926718/soup-of-the-day-by-jacarandabloom-explicit) if you feel so inclined!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange customer arrives the restaurant and starts leaving small piles of rocks on the table to grade the meals. Also, dessert soups are totally a thing.

It had been the single-minded goal for them since college and seemed simple enough. 1. Study hard. 2. Open their dream restaurant. 3. Take the culinary world by storm.

 

What could possibly go wrong?

 

Lots, apparently.

 

“Okay. Break it to me gently, Nialler. How many covers did we do tonight?” Louis squints his eyes shut preparing himself for the predictably bad news.

 

“Eighteen.” Niall sighs looking down at the grease-stained dockets in his hand.

 

“Eighteen?” Louis hangs his head, elbows resting on the bar. He snaps his head up and slaps his hands on the bar. “Right. Well then. That blows. Beer?”

 

“What are we doing wrong?” Niall bins the sad pile of paper and grabs two cold beers from the fridge, handing one to Louis.

 

They crack the tops, clink the necks of the bottles and both take a long gulp in a practiced routine.

 

“I dunno, mate, but we gotta do something or else we’ll be out of business in six months,” Louis says, chuckling at the absurdity of the situation.

 

“That bad huh?” Niall asks as he takes another swig of his beer.

 

So what were they doing wrong?

 

First. Finding the perfect location within their measly budget had been practically impossible. So they compromised. The place was a bit run down when they moved in, but a few weeks of hard labour had enabled them to turn it into something resembling their dream space. It wasn’t anything grand, but then again, that wasn’t the look they were after.

 

Sidewalk seating under crisp blue and white canvas awnings, Buxus hedging in stone planter boxes surrounding a sidewalk seating area, and heater towers to ward off the unforgiving Chicago winter.

 

Inside, a dark wooden bar runs the length of the far wall, exposed brick with glass shelving and an array of liquor bottles providing a colourful backdrop. Cozy booth seating down one wall, with tables along the other and more in the central dining area and under the windows looking out onto the street. Low hanging subdued lighting emanating from antique cast iron chandeliers creating an intimate atmosphere within the welcoming space, completing the picture.

 

‘Nouis’ Place’ they'd called it. A portmanteau of their names which seemed fitting at the time, but people have trouble remembering it and, well,  _ saying _ it, so perhaps it wasn't the smartest idea. Whatever. It's on the business registration, so it's staying.

 

Second. Running a restaurant is really fucking expensive, and really fucking exhausting. It's not like they went into this blind, they understood what was involved, but still, the reality hit hard. From the fit out to the licensing, registrations, staff, linens, utilities, services, equipment, stock, wastage, breakages and advertising. The costs were never-ending, and the hours were a killer.

 

Third. Getting, you know, _actual_ _paying_ _customers_ through the door was like trying to push molasses up a sand hill with a toothpick.

 

They'd been at it for twelve months now. Breaking even… just. But something was missing. They had no  _ hook _ , nothing original, nothing to draw people in, nothing to mark them as a destination. They were just another restaurant in an up-and-coming regenerated part of Chicago. Nothing flash. Nothing that made them stand out from the multitude of other places along the strip of eateries, all trying to make their mark, and capture some of the elusive passing trade.

 

He and Niall had headed over to Chicago from Manchester after college and years of training in the industry. They were so excited to be starting their adult lives in a new and vibrant city. The world was at their feet.

 

They'd stayed with Niall’s relatives in the suburbs until they found the perfect space for the restaurant. Niall had moved in with a couple of his cousins on the other side of the city and Louis had rented one of the flats in the building above the restaurant.

 

It was an old factory that had been converted into apartments, office suites and shops, cashing in on the resurgence of the area and the young professionals’ penchant for the industrial look. Expanses of stripped back brickwork, exposed ducting and pipes, steel beams, high ceilings and open plan living, all adding to the vibe of the space.

 

It had all the makings of a bright future, but it seemed frustratingly out of reach for the moment.

 

“So,” Louis sighs. “Any bright ideas for how we can attract more business? And no, burning all the other restaurants on the strip to the ground is not an option, so don't even go there.”

 

“Nope. But I think we should go to the pub and get smashed. We always think better when we're three sheets to the wind,” Niall says, draining the last few drops of amber liquid from his bottle.

 

“Good man, Niall. You do have some brilliant ideas.”

 

“I'm quite clever, Tommo. Thought you'd have worked that out by now.” Niall smirks as he bins their bottles.

 

They do a final check of the restaurant, turning off the lights and grabbing their coats, stepping out into the quiet street, and bracing themselves against the cold night air. A shiver runs through Louis’ body as he flips up the collar of his coat. Movement across the street under the lamp-light catches his eye and he turns, just in time to see a tall figure shifting out of the light and retreating into the shadows. Long coat and scarf catching in the in the golden hue before disappearing into the darkness.

 

Granted, it's not the poshest of areas, frequented at night by vagrants and the homeless, finding refuge under the L trains, warmth around the large kettle drums, and relative safety in their numbers. Louis doesn't pay it much mind. They’ve never had any trouble, the pub is only half a block away, and there are still a few groups of people milling about outside the other restaurants.

 

“Lou? You coming?”

 

“Huh?” Louis turns to see Niall a few steps away already heading in the direction of their salvation for the evening. “Yeah. Right. Let's go.”

 

As they walk down the strip, the sound of the lilting Irish music from the pub filters softly through the still night air, drawing them in with every step.

 

~~~~

 

Louis is tired and frustrated and a little drunk as he tries to punch the code into the building security system.  _ Why not a swipe card or just a fucking key? _

 

He lets out a quiet  _ Yippee  _ when he finally manages to get the code right, stumbling through the heavy door and towards the lift. Louis’ apartment is on the first floor at the back of the building, and while he has a view of the L train at eye level from his living area, the expensive soundproofing means he doesn’t hear it unless he has his windows open to catch a breath of summer air. He likes it. Actually, he fucking loves it.

 

Kicking off his shoes, he hangs his coat on the hooks in the entranceway and pads over to the kitchen to make some tea.  _ Tea fixes everything. _

 

His studio has a large open plan lounge and dining area with a kitchen to one side, huge windows that go all the way to the ceiling, a separate bathroom and a loft bed above. He has decorated with a veritable jungle of indoor plants and large art prints on the brick walls. Sheer white curtains let in streams of natural light and hide the view of the L train. He loves waking up and seeing the beams of sunshine filtering through, glinting off the ducted pipes high up in the roof space. Dust particles dance in the light as long shadows cast shapes on the thick wooden floorboards. It's his, and it's home.

 

Niall’s foolproof solution to solving their problems - getting smashed - unfortunately, hadn't worked. They still had no brilliant ideas to increase business. But they had six months to turn it around. To turn it into something.

 

Louis takes his steaming cup of tea over to the windows and pulls back the curtain looking down on the street below. Socked feet and cozy jumper keeping him warm while he lets the hot liquid do the same from the inside out.

 

The homeless crew has settled in for the evening, kettle drum aflame, dimly lighting the faces of the nameless souls sheltering under the tracks.

 

As he watches them milling about he wonders what roads they’ve traveled down in their lives that led them to this point. Did they have no one to turn to? Was their situation so dire that they lost hope? Did they choose this life over a life even more desperate?

 

A train goes by, jolting him from his thoughts.  _ Bedtime _ . 

  
  


~~~~

  
  


“What do you mean, rocks?” Louis asks quizzically, not looking up from the coffee machine.

 

“I  _ mean _ , he left rocks on the table,” Milly says, irritation clear in her voice.

 

“Did he pay with actual money as well?”

 

“W-what? Yes. He paid with actual money. But  _ Louis _ . He left  _ ROCKS  _ on the table.”

 

“Milly, love. Are they boulder size? Are they prohibitively enormous? Are they gonna cause the floor to give way?”

 

“No. Fine. Whatever,” she says dumping the offending rocks on the bar before stalking off.

 

“Thanks, Milly!” Louis calls out, chuckling to himself. Rocks. Seriously? He pokes at them, counting the four unconsciously as he picks them up to throw them away. How bizarre. He isn’t sure why, but instead of throwing them away, he tucks them into a little drawer under the bar.

 

He’d noticed the man. Of course, he had. Tall and broad, with short wavy hair, he’d been engrossed in his journal, head bowed the couple of times Louis had ventured out to the floor. He was seated at a small table in the corner, away from prying eyes, but their dining area wasn’t so large that he could go unnoticed.

 

He’d ordered the soup. Not Louis’ best dish, but it was still solid. A recipe he’d created back in culinary school for an assignment. His own take on a Chicken and Corn Chowder of sorts, served with crusty bread, an anchovy parmesan, and fried shallots sprinkled on top. Hearty and warm, but with a touch of something unique to infuse a more Mediterranean taste into the tried and true dish.

 

The man had stayed for almost the full three hours of lunch service, seemingly happy to exist in his little corner of the world. Louis imagines him as a famous writer, penning lines of creative genius on the page. Perhaps he was writing about their humble abode or the passersby that didn’t venture in. Perhaps he was a mathematical mastermind, solving complicated equations that would one day be the key to unlocking great mysteries. Perhaps he was a philosopher, troubled and misunderstood in his time, but one that would be heralded as a genius in years to come.

 

Four rocks. He wondered about the significance. Was he leaving breadcrumbs behind to track his journey through life? Was he a spy trying to communicate a message about impending danger? Louis really needed to snap out of it and get to work.

 

Ah HA! Rocket Man. That would be his name if he came back.  _ Get it? ROCK-et Man. Dang, he was funny. _

 

Louis hopes he’ll return. He’s interesting, a curiosity to break up the monotony of the day now that he has started to create an intriguing storyline for him. And anyway, they needed all the customers they could get because if they were quiet for the dinner service, then lunch was like a schoolyard after the last bell had rung before the holidays. They were lucky to manage five covers during the midday to three o’clock sitting, but they needed to be there to prep for the evening, so it wasn’t a huge overhead to put on wait staff and open their doors in the hope of attracting more clientele.

 

There were new businesses popping up around them all the time, as each new area of the rejuvenation was finished. Small, creative outfits that brought young professionals, tech startups, satellite offices for larger companies, or home-based businesses that had outgrown their accommodations. It was thriving, and they wanted to ensure they captured the eye of new customers wherever possible.

 

Louis hunkered down in the office to wrangle the accounts and check-in with suppliers. It was his least favorite aspect of the job, but a necessary one. The numbers weren’t great, as usual, but they were keeping afloat. They had engaged the services of an accountant at the start. It was an expense they could no longer justify, but they’d been able to set them up with good systems and processes, so it had been worth it and Louis diligently followed their guidance to the letter.

 

He let his mind drift again to Rocket Man. He didn’t know why he was drawn to thoughts of him. He couldn’t even conjure an image of him in his head as he’d yet to catch a glimpse of his face. Next time he came in, if there was indeed a next time, he would be more observant. But for now, it was back to the books.

  
  


~~~~

  
  


He doesn’t need to wait long for Rocket Man’s next visit. Three days later Louis comes out of the kitchen, arms heavily laden with bottles to refill the bar fridge, and there he is. He’s taken the same table, in the back corner, and is studiously jotting down notes in his distressed, leather-bound journal.

 

Same downcast eyes, same wavy hair, same air of mystery.

 

Louis sets the crate of bottles down on the bar and starts distractedly unloading them into the fridges, unable to tear his gaze away. He notices that the man has lit the candle on the table, which is causing light to dance across his sharp jawline. His coat is on the chair next to him, instead of hanging near the door, as is the norm for his customers. Resting on top of his coat is a canvas satchel, wayward threads breaking loose around the edges of the bag and along the sash.

 

Louis watches as Milly approaches and the man looks up. He notes large features, big round eyes, heavy set nose, plush lips. From this distance, he can’t make out any specific details but finds that he wants to know what colour his eyes are and if his lips are chapped from the cold Chicago winds.

 

Rocket Man speaks to Milly to give his order, although Louis isn’t close enough to hear, the sounds of activity from the kitchen drowning out his words. He seems to speak in slow motion, or maybe it’s just Louis’ mind playing tricks on him. He’s mesmerized by the motion of his mouth and the smile that spreads across his lips.

 

As Milly walks away, the man briefly glances after her and then his eyes find Louis’.

 

Louis is struck by how beautiful he is. Truly beautiful.

 

Shocked by the realization he has been caught staring, he fumbles one of the bottles but reacts quickly enough to stop it from crashing to the floor.

 

He looks away but not before he notices a small smile playing at the corner of the man’s mouth for a brief moment.

 

“Smooth, Tommo, smooth,” Louis mumbles, shaking his head.

 

The rest of the lunch service is dismal as usual. But by the end, they have managed eight covers, including Rocket Man. Not bad for a slow Friday. Louis had been busy in the kitchen for the remainder of lunch and hadn’t been able to observe the man again. He was also possibly making himself scarce after his little embarrassment, but whatever.

 

He ventures back out after a while and sees three small rocks on the bar near the register. Huh.

 

“Milly!” He calls out. “What’s this?” Pointing at the little pile.

 

“That’s from your mate,” she says dismissively thumbing over her shoulder to where Rocket Man had been sitting.

 

“Oh, right. Uhm. What did he order today?”

 

“Soup. Again,” Milly says offhandedly as she walks over to reset some of the tables that had been used during service.

 

Today’s offering had been another old favorite but without much flare. French onion, with cheese bread on top as a crust. More of a stew than a soup really and it was served with a side of steamed asparagus and honey carrots, tied with dried leek strings.

 

Did the rocks mean something? Was it a rating scale, or just random? Was it a countdown? To what? No. That was ridiculous. Louis needs to stop his brain from turning to conspiracy theories at every opportunity.

 

Well, hopefully Rocket Man will come back again and he can test his theory further. Perhaps this time Louis won’t make such a fool of himself.

  
  


~~~~

  
  


“So what’s the deal with Rock Dude?” Niall asks wryly.

 

“Huh? Oh, nothing really. Milly is irritated because he keeps leaving little piles of rocks, pebbles really, on his table when he leaves,” Louis says distractedly. They’re at the pub and he’s trying to listen to a conversation at the next table. They’re talking about some new company that’s moving into the latest refurbished factory a couple of blocks over and he’s keen to know whether it might bring some business their way.

 

“Seems kinda weird mate. Why would he leave rocks? Maybe he’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic?” Niall chuckles to himself. “Earth to Tommo,” he says, waving his hand in front of Louis’ face.

 

“What?” Louis gives up on the other table, music and chatter too loud to hear anyway, and refocuses his attention on Niall.

 

“I said.. wait… you’ve been doing that thing, haven’t you? The backstory thing? Ooooohhh, I can’t wait to hear this,” Niall says leaning forward on his elbows and propping his chin in his hands, indicating he’s ready for a story.

 

“Right. Well,” Louis smirks and proceeds to fill Niall in on his musings.

 

“A spy. Really?”

 

“Nah. Not really. I need more data before I land on something, I think. Hopefully, he keeps coming back so I can refine it a bit more.”

 

Louis thinks back to the big round eyes, still curious about their colour, and plush lips, and that smile. It was fleeting and really just a hint of what it could potentially be, but it was enough to pique his curiosity.

 

“He’s quite attractive.”

 

“Ahhh. Well,  _ now _ we’re getting somewhere.” Niall grins.

 

“Smug doesn’t suit you, you know,” Louis says, eyes narrowing, though all in jest. “He’s interesting. And not too hard on the eyes. Wouldn’t be sad to see him around a bit more is all.” He ponders for a minute. Yeah, he wouldn’t mind that at all.

  
  


~~~~

  
  


As it transpires, Louis need not have been concerned about seeing Rocket Man more often when he becomes their first, true regular - every Tuesday and Friday, like clockwork. Always at the same table, always scribbling away in his journal, always ordering the soup, and always leaving piles of little rocks.

 

Sometimes Louis gets to watch him a bit when he can find an excuse to be out front.

 

He’s thought about approaching him, but can’t quite get up the nerve. He doesn’t want to upset the bubble they’re in, orbiting around each other like planets that need to be kept at a distance so as not to upset the balance of the universe.

 

Milly has been absolutely no help at all. She doesn’t chat with the man other than to take his order, and Louis doesn’t want to admit to his curiosity by fishing for information.

 

The rock theories he’s conjuring up are growing more elaborate at an alarming rate. But Louis has started to notice a pattern of sorts. On days when Louis hasn’t put much effort into the soup on offer, still good quality, but perhaps a little boring, there are fewer rocks. On days when he tries new fusions or lets his creative flare off the leash a bit, there are more rocks.

 

Eight is the maximum rocks he has achieved. A proud day even if he does say so himself. The man obviously taken with his particularly creative hot n sour lemon and star anise clear soup with small crab meatballs and fried rocket lettuce garnish. The smell had permeated throughout the restaurant and he was surprised at the number of other covers they had done for the dish.

 

Since then, he has found himself staying up late at night, working away furiously and turning out recipe after recipe.

 

Business has increased and more and more people are coming in asking for his soups. They are averaging twenty covers at lunch and forty at dinner on the busier days. Word is spreading.

 

It’s a strange turn of events. Soup was always something easy and quick that could pad out a menu. Almost a base requirement to just have a soup available, whatever it might be. Now, though, Louis is focusing on it. Niall calls it his obsession, but he can fuck right off. In a bizarre way, he feels as though he wants to please Rocket Man, to surprise him, to get more of those damn rocks. It’s validating and intriguing and strangely motivating.

 

But the more time he spends on the soups, and the busier they get, the less time he has to sneak moments to watch the man. Although, he has at least discovered one important detail about him. Green. His eyes are green. Not just green though. The most beautiful moss green he has ever seen. On a particularly grim and grey Chicago day, the candlelight had flickered at just the right moment as he raised his head. Louis had been nearly bowled over by the sight, the air was sucked out of his lungs as he stood ramrod straight, afraid to move lest he disturb the scene.

 

He’s never been so attracted to and fascinated by someone before. But he feels entirely out of reach. Like he isn’t even real. But he is.

 

There were a few times when Louis was working out front that he thought he felt the man’s gaze on him, but each time he would turn around, he would be buried in his journal. It was frustrating, but it also pushed him to continue their dance of chef and customer. Louis found himself seeking his validation, as though he was only cooking for him. For Rocket Man. He wanted to do better. He knew could do better.

  
  


~~~~

  
  


“Well, this is new,” Milly says as she walks into the kitchen after the end lunch service.

 

“What’s that, Mills?” Louis says distractedly, filleting a fish in preparation for dinner.

 

“There’s a note.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Rock dude. He left a note. For you, I assume.”

 

Louis freezes. A note. After months of nothing but rocks, there’s a note.

 

“Ooooooooo Tommo,” Niall says and does a wolf whistle. Cretin.

 

Trying to appear nonchalant, he washes and wipes his hands before walking around the bench and ramming his hip into it, obviously failing miserably at the whole cool, calm and casual thing.

 

“Give it here then.” Louis reaches out his hand as Milly places it on the bench.

 

On the small scrap of paper is one word, written in beautiful handwriting.

 

_ Sweets _

 

“Sweets?” Niall says, having rounded the bench, rack of ribs still in his hands. “What the hell does that mean? Was the soup not sweet enough?”

 

Louis ponders for a moment. “It was a parsnip and chorizo broth. I don’t think that’s what he meant.”

 

“Dessert Soup.” Bill, their kitchen hand, pipes up from the sink where he’s been busily loading the large industrial dishwasher.

 

“What?” Louis and Niall say at once, heads snapping around to face him.

 

“You know. Soup. But a dessert. Like ice cream when you’ve left it out of the freezer for too long and it goes all... melty. Love me a bit of that,” Bill says as he goes back to the job at hand, whistling away to himself, completely oblivious to the fact that he has just rocked their worlds.

 

Louis looks up to Niall who now has a massive smile spreading across his face.

 

“Dessert Soup,” Louis says, wonderment beaming out of him. “Of  _ course _ .”

  
  


~~~~

  
  


After that first epiphany, things take a new course.

 

Louis starts spending every waking moment in a brain fog of sweet delights, forming crazy combinations and fashioning them into dishes. He lands some and fails with others, but he keeps forging ahead, holed up in a corner of the kitchen testing and trialing until Niall and Bill are ready to throw him out.

 

Louis waits two weeks until he’s got a few dishes he’s happy with before he nervously puts one on the menu.

 

When Rocket Man arrives he settles himself in, places his coat and canvas bag on the seat beside him and gets out his journal, before lighting the candle and starting to scribble. Louis watches from the doorway of the kitchen, keeping it only slightly ajar so he isn’t spotted.

 

Milly approaches and hands him the menu which he flips over, eyes scanning to the bottom of the page as has been his habit for the last two weeks (Louis may have been at the kitchen door at midday on Tuesday’s and Friday’s for the last two weeks - so what - it’s his restaurant and he can do whatever he wants.)

 

Louis knows the exact moment when Rocket Man sees the new addition. A dark chocolate mousse and mint soup, with dried raspberries and fresh blueberries. A large smile spreads across the man’s face as he looks up to Milly to make his order. His gaze shifts and lands on Louis, and even though he had been doing his best to remain hidden, he now finds himself wanting to be seen. He smiles back, crinkles by his eyes, and goes back into the kitchen.

 

From then on, the rocks are replaced by notes, with hand drawn little rocks at the top instead. The messages are still brief but give a great critique. They’re insightful and guide Louis towards success after success. Louis saves every note and pops it into the small drawer behind the bar with the collection of rocks.

 

The people come. And then they come back again. And again. They’ve finally got their hook. Small write-ups on a couple of online blogs, an article in a local paper, and a mention or two on some radio shows.

 

They put on more staff for front-of-house and in the kitchen, leaving Louis to create, rather than cook, and he loves it. Covers for lunch are almost at capacity and dinner now has two sittings.

 

But one thing remains constant. Rocket Man. He comes every Tuesday and Friday and sits at his table, which now brandishes a permanent reserved sign. He writes in his journal, leaves his notes with the rock ratings, and vanishes again at the end of lunch service. 

 

Louis finds himself jittery with anticipation for his visits and relishes in the challenges set before him. He rises to them all and finds he has never been happier.

 

But he wonders. What would it be like to talk to Rocket Man? What is he really like? Would they get along? He finds himself daydreaming about the conversations they might have, imagining a future where they could be friends, or even more. They are so in tune with each other. Perhaps it could be something special?

 

But he’s afraid of destabilising what they have now, it’s bringing him joy and successes he had previously only dared dream of. What if he ruined it all?

 

No. Things were good. Best to let it lie.


	2. Smold Is A Funny Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis falls down but Harry is there to catch him.

Louis jogs along the riverfront, pounding the pathway as it winds up into the park. The early morning fog provides a blanket of comfort, shrouding the world in a Jurassic-like haze as the music from his phone allows him to tune out everything else.

 

He takes the same path every morning, clearing his head before the day begins, finding peace in the nature around him, and allowing him to forget he’s in a city teeming with almost three million people.

 

He doesn’t see the stick before it’s too late, lost in his own world. One moment he’s upright and the next he’s careening out of control and tumbling down the embankment. Hard earth coming up to meet him, wet grass causing him to slide and roll faster and faster until he comes to an abrupt halt at the bottom, stopped by a large elm tree.

 

His head hurts, as does his ankle and he cries out in pain as he tries to move it. His earbuds have been ripped out and his phone is no longer in his armband.

 

He lies there for a moment, cataloging his injuries. Trying to get his bearings. He doesn’t seem too badly hurt, all things considered, but as he tries to sit up, his vision starts to blur and his stomach lurches. He lays back down and closes his eyes, breathing heavily.

 

He hears a voice but it seems far away, eyelids too heavy to open. The voice is coming closer. English accent. Nice. Calming. Hands move under his shoulders, lifting him up, cradling his head. Cold hands, but soothing. He just wants to lay there for a while.

 

He hears his name. That’s nice. Cold hands knows him and is going to look after him.

 

“L-Louis… Louis. Can you hear me? Oh god. Are you okay? Stay with me. Please. Help is coming. Stay with me.”

 

Then the world goes quiet.

  


~~~~

  


He can feel himself being jostled around. Prodded and poked. Lifted. There is a bright light filtering through. Orange on the backs of his eyelids.

 

“Did you see what happened?” A woman’s voice asks.

 

“He tripped. He was running and he, he tripped. H-he fell. He rolled down the embankment and hit the tree. Hit his head. He wouldn’t wake up,” a man says. He’s speaking slowly but like he’s trying to rush the information out. _Funny_ , he thinks in his hazy state. The voice is smooth. He likes it. He wants it to talk more.

 

Something is being placed over his mouth. It’s hard and there’s cold air coming through. A mask maybe? Why does he have a mask on? He’s not going diving. He turns his head, trying to get away from it.

 

“Louis. Oh god. Are you okay?” The man with the smooth voice says.

 

“Sir. Can you open your eyes? Sir?” The woman says. He doesn’t like her voice as much. Where’s the other one gone? He wants to open his eyes but they aren’t cooperating.

 

He reaches out and then a cold hand grips his firmly. Ahhhh cold hands is back. He wonders if cold hands and smooth voice are the same person. He hopes so. That would be nice.

 

He concentrates really hard and gradually opens his eyes. It’s bright. Too bright. Blurry. So he closes them again. He’s moving he thinks. In a car? There’s a loud noise. A siren. Maybe there’s an emergency, but the sound isn’t passing by as it should.

 

“Louis. Louis. Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me?” Smooth voice says.

 

Of course he can hear him. What a silly question. Smooth voice is silly. He likes silly.

 

Wait. He asked him to do something. Oh right. _Squeeze_. He squeezes the cold hand.

 

“Oh thank _god_.” Smooth voice says. So smooth voice and cold hands are the same person. That’s excellent. He smiles to himself. He’s going to call him Smold for short.

 

“He squeezed my hand! He’s smiling!”

 

“You’ve got a funny name,” Louis says, but it’s slurred and muffled by the mask.

 

“Wait! He’s trying to say something.”

 

Someone takes the mask off his face.

 

“What was that, Sir?” The woman says. No. Louis wants Smold back.

 

“I said, he’s got a funny name,” Louis mutters, barely recognizing his own voice.

 

Smold laughs. Deep and rolling. It’s comforting and warm and he wants to build a nest in it and burrow away for a while.

 

“Louis. Can you open your eyes?” Smold says.

 

“Warm here. Keep talking, Smold,” Louis says and grips the hand tighter.

 

“Smold? Okay then.” He chuckles. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was so worried.”

 

Well, that’s nice. Smold was worried about him. He would interrupt to ask questions but his mouth isn’t really getting with the program. He’d like to know what he looks like though. Maybe he should try opening his eyes again.

 

He squeezes his eyes shut tighter like he’s going to make a running start to get them working. Gradually, he blinks them open. Blinking again and again to clear the fog. Things start to come into focus. There are bright lights and coloured plastic baskets of stuff attached to the walls. There’s a beeping and the siren is still blaring, the sounds coming into focus along with his vision. He’s in an ambulance. Well, that’s a good place to be, he reasons.

 

He turns his head slightly and in his line of sight are the most beautiful pair of moss green eyes he’s ever seen. Wait. He knows those eyes.

 

“Rocket Man?” Louis sighs out. “It’s _you_ ? You’re here. With _me_.”

 

“Rocket Man?” Green eyes questions, blinking tears from his beautiful shining orbs. Why is he sad? He should never be sad. He’s too special to be sad. But Louis made him sad. He’s sorry.

 

“I’m sorry for making you sad. Please don’t cry, Rocket Man,” Louis says softly and rubs his thumb back and forth across the back of his hand.

 

“I’m not sad, Louis. I’m happy. I’m happy you’re okay. You scared me for a while there,” he says, smiling kindly. “Thought I was going to lose you without ever having talked to you.”

 

Louis looks deep the eyes that have haunted his dreams. Deep and green with flecks of hazel he can see now that he’s up close. Kind and thoughtful and mysterious.

 

“Hazel,” Louis says in awe.

 

“What’s that?” Rocket Man says.

 

“Your eyes. They’re green and hazel too. I didn’t know. I’m glad I know now, though.”

 

“We’re here, gentlemen,” the woman says.

 

That’s a shame Louis thinks.

 

“Why’s it a shame?” Rocket Man says.

 

Oh. So he said it loud. Okay then.

 

“Just is, Rocket Man.”

 

“Harry,” Rocket Man says. “My name’s Harry.”

 

“Harry,” Louis whispers.

  


~~~~

  


Louis is wheeled into Emergency and examined and prodded and poked some more. Everything is overwhelming because things are still a little fuzzy, but Harry stays with him the whole time. Solid and reassuring by his side. He squeezes his free hand when they insert the cannula, and again when they move his ankle about to see how bad his injury is.

 

Harry stays with him when they wheel him off to x-ray and to the CT scan, watching through the glass, and taking his hand again after it’s done. Soothing him with his lovely voice and telling him he was brave.

 

Louis is still not up for much conversation, so Harry just prattles on in his slow drawl. He listens intently to what the nurses and doctors are saying and then explains it to Louis in a less terrifying way, at a pace that his befuddled brain can absorb. He makes up little backstories for the people as they come in and out of Emergency, some they can only hear so it makes it more interesting, others they can see through the split in the curtain. Louis joins in where he can. But mostly he’s happy to just listen.

 

He has a concussion and a sprained ankle, plus a multitude of bumps and bruises and scratches, one on his shin which is a bit deep and requires a number of stitches, although Harry won’t tell him how many. He’s got a golf ball sized lump on his head from when he hit the elm tree, but otherwise, he’s in one piece. It’s unclear whether it’s Louis or Harry that is more relieved.

 

The nurses strap his ankle for support, prop it up on pillows, and give him an ice pack to help with the swelling. Harry, of course, fusses and repositions his pillows multiple times until he’s satisfied, meticulously timing ten minutes on, ten minutes off, as instructed by the nurse.

 

Harry gets him water from the fountain and a sandwich from the trolley when it comes around after it’s deemed safe for Louis to eat. He adjusts the curtain constantly and gets him extra blankets. He’s so polite and endearing that the nurses take a shine to him in no time at all.

 

As the hours stretch on, Louis starts to feel better and more like himself. His ankle is still sore and his head still hurts so Harry trots off to the nurses' station to fetch someone who can dispense some more pain relief.

 

He’s a godsend and Louis is so very grateful, and also, he realizes at around lunchtime, completely smitten.

 

In fairness, it’s hard not to be. Harry’s bedside manner is worthy of an award. He is attentive to all of Louis’ needs and keeps up the chatter to distract Louis from their surroundings.

 

After a couple of hours, Louis notices Harry getting fidgety. He’s looking around distractedly, eyes darting before he speaks.

 

“So, Rocket Man?” Harry asks as he looks up through his lashes nervously.

 

“Um. Yeah. It was a nickname?” Louis says sheepishly. “I gave it to you early on because you kept leaving, you know, rocks. Get it?”

 

Harry’s eyes bug out a little as a honking laugh bursts out of him, seemingly out of his control. His hands fly up to his mouth, presumably to prevent any further outbursts, and he starts to shake with giggles.

 

Louis is initially taken aback but quickly finds himself enveloped by the same silliness, although the laughing hurts his head, so he tries to muffle it as best he can. After a minute, Harry calms down and wipes the teardrop escaping from the corner of one eye.

 

“You know, you could always have just come and talked to me,” Harry says softly, still a hint of a giggle present.

 

“Well, you could’ve come and talked to me too!”

 

“What? Just _wander_ into the kitchen?” Harry tilts his chin up questioningly.

 

“Oh. Right. Guess not.”

 

“Hey. None of that. I should have found a way. I’m really sorry I didn’t.” Harry takes Louis’ hand in his, it’s soft and endearing and Louis never wants the moment to pass.

 

“No. It should’ve been me. But I was afraid of ruining everything. Things were going so well.” Louis pauses to muster some courage, but Harry is sitting by his hospital bed holding his hand, so how badly could he have misread the situation. “I didn’t trust myself to not want something more than just a conversation.”

 

“I guess I was nervous about that too,” Harry says bashfully. “But I’m glad we’re past that now, even if the circumstances that got us here aren’t what either of us would’ve chosen.”

 

“My knight in shining armour. Thank you, by the way. Thank you for saving me.”

 

“I didn’t do much Louis. Just the right place at the right time.”

 

“Bit like destiny, eh?” Louis says hopefully.

 

“Yeah. Bit like destiny.”

 

Their little bubble is burst by the curtain being ripped back to reveal an exasperated and distraught looking Irishman.

 

“Tommo!! Oh god,” Niall shouts, almost manically.

 

Niall races to his side, looking him over frantically. He takes Louis’ hand with the cannula in both of his own and squeezes tightly, making Louis wince in pain.

 

“Hey, Nialler. Y’alright?” Louis says, trying to eke out a smile.

 

“I was so worried. What happened? A-are you okay? What’s wrong with your foot? Oh god! Are you in pain? Harry called the restaurant and Bill got the message and he said that… _Harry_ said you were hurt, but okay, but I… I didn’t know. Fuck,” Niall rushes out, breathing heavily.

 

“I’m fine. Just a sprained ankle and concussion, plus some cuts and bruises. I’ll heal up good as new in no time. Don’t look so stricken mate,” Louis chuckles, gripping Niall’s hand back reassuringly.

 

Niall slumps down into the chair and lays his head on the bed next to their joined hands, muffled words following.

 

“You scared the fucking shit out of me. Harry said you were okay, but I didn’t know…” Niall repeats softly. “You’re my family. I love you and I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you,” Niall says, raising up his head with tears in his eyes.

 

“Hey, hey. None of that. I’m fine. Really. Harry here saved me. My hero.” Louis looks over to Harry and tightens the hold on his hand. They’re not cold anymore. Smooth and safe.

 

Harry smiles softly.

 

“So how did you find him?” Niall says, sniffling and wiping his nose on his shoulder, not quite prepared to give up the vice grip he has on Louis’ hand.

 

“Oh, I was on my morning walk. And I thought it was him from far away, but I was nervous. I didn’t know whether to call out or turn around and run the other way. I thought it might be weird because we hadn’t properly introduced ourselves. Guess fate had other ideas.” Harry smiles, huffing out a small laugh. “Then he tripped and fell down the embankment and my only thought was to get to him as quickly as possible. He’s been very brave. And very, ah, cute?”

 

“Is that even a question? Of _course,_ I’m cute. I’m adorable. Even when I’m out of it and covered in grass and blood and have no idea where I am, or what’s going on and make up ridiculous names for people. Cute is my default.” Louis gives a short nod, grinning.

 

“Jesus, Tommo,” Niall’s says, rolling his eyes, before turning his attention to Harry. “Thanks for looking after him Harry. You’re a star. Oh, and, you know, thanks for the soup and stuff.”

 

“The soup and stuff?!” Louis shrieks. “Nialler. Come on. It’s a bit more than the soup and stuff. He’s pretty much single-handedly revolutionized our little business, increased our takings four-fold, and changed our lives, and now has quite literally saved mine. Reckon he deserves a bit more than ‘thanks for the soup and stuff’,” Louis chides good-naturedly.

 

“Right. Course. Thanks for, well, what he said,” Niall says nodding towards Louis.

 

Louis looks at Harry who has developed a lovely pink blush up his neck and onto his cheeks.

 

“You’re welcome. Truly. Glad I could do my bit. Not that it was much. You’re so talented Louis. I just gave a bit of feedback. And as for saving you, well, I was just in the right place at the right time,” Harry says, clearly embarrassed by the attention.

 

“Humble and a knight in shining armour. Quite the deadly combination.” Louis smiles softly, giving Harry’s hand another squeeze.

 

Harry looks between Louis and Niall. “Anyway. Now that you’re here and he’s on the mend, I should probably leave you both to it and head off.”

 

“What? Oh yeah. Okay,” Louis says, casting his eyes down. He’s been an idiot. Harry probably has far more important things to be doing, a life to get back to, he can’t be hanging around in a hospital all day. Louis releases his grip on Harry’s hand and misses the touch immediately.

 

“Hey. No,” Harry says, chasing Louis’ hand and taking a hold of it again. “I just meant that you might want me to leave now that Niall is here. I don’t want to intrude.”

 

“You’re not. Trust me,” Niall says waggling his eyebrows. “You’re all this idiot has talked about for months. You and the soup. That’s it. Been driving me round the fucking bend going on and on and on-“

 

“Hey! Blabbermouth. That’s enough out of you,” Louis says before turning to Harry. “Please stay. I'd really like you to. Unless you have somewhere else to be of course?”

 

“No. Nowhere else I’d rather be,” Harry says happily.

 

“Right! Well, that’s settled then,” Niall says rising from the seat. “I’ve got a restaurant to run, so unless you need anything else from me, I’ll be off. Those soups aren’t going to cook themselves now, are they? Customers to feed and all that.”

 

“Thanks, Nialler. You’re a good egg.” Louis gives Niall’s hand a firm squeeze before releasing it.

 

“How long you gonna be out of action anyway, mate?”

 

Harry answers before Louis can respond. “The doctor said he can go home in a couple of hours. He’s going to have to keep off his foot for at least a few days. He needs someone with him constantly for the next twenty-four hours because of the concussion. The dressing on his shin needs to be checked every twelve hours and redressed in two days,” he says, rattling off the instructions from earlier. Louis remembers bits of it but is glad Harry was taking notes because otherwise he’d be lost.

 

“Regular Nurse Nightingale we’ve got here, I see,” Niall says with a smirk. “So. Uhm. I guess the next question is how are we getting you home and how are you gonna manage when you get there? Me and Milly can probably take it in shifts and bring you what you need, but…”

 

“Oh. Actually. I can bring him home and stay. If that’s okay with you, Louis?” Harry offers tentatively. “I don’t really have any plans and I wouldn’t mind and I just thought...uhm, but obviously if you don’t want...”

 

“Harry. That’s. That’s lovely. But I don’t want to ask that much of you. You’ve already done so much,” Louis says nervously.

 

“It’s more than fine, Louis. I’d love to. And I’d just be worrying if I wasn’t there, anyways.”

 

“Well, sounds like it’s all sorted then. I’ll leave you in Harry’s capable hands. Give me a call if you need anything though yeah? We’re only downstairs. And we’ll ferry food and drinks up, so no need to worry about that,” Niall says and then turns to Harry. “You know. I don’t think Louis here is going to be the easiest of patients, so you’re a brave man, Harry,” Niall says thumbing at Louis. “Guess you’re really going to earn that knight-in-shining-armour title. More power to you and good luck!”

 

“Oh wait. I don’t think I have my phone. I lost it when I fell. Damn it,” Louis says, irritated, thinking about the inconvenience of having to get it replaced.

 

“It’s okay Louis. I’ve got it. The screen is a bit scratched up, but otherwise, it’s fine I think.” Harry digs it out of his jacket pocket, handing it to Louis. “See. All good.”

 

“You really are an angel, aren’t you?”

 

“Well. I’m outta here. I want regular updates, Nurse Harry.” Niall points to Harry, pretending to be authoritative, but seriously, who is he kidding?

 

And with that, Niall leans over to place a kiss on Louis’ forehead. “Love ya, mate. So glad you’re okay. Don’t scare me like that again or I’ll punch your lights out. Got it?”

 

“Love you too, Nialler. Now. Away with you! Go run our restaurant!!” Louis says, smiling widely. “Me and Nurse Harry will be just fine.”

 

And Louis knows in his heart that it’s the truth.


	3. Netflix and Chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being carried isn’t as bad as Louis thought, Harry’s voice isn’t the only thing about him that’s smooth, and bathtime just became a lot more interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am absolutely loving writing these characters, so I hope you enjoy the next part of this little story. There's a bit of laughter, some awkwardness, fluff, and domesticity, as well as a healthy dose of smut.

By the afternoon, Louis is beyond ready to go home, and at around four, the doctor finally gives him the all clear. It’s Harry’s continual insistence that Louis will be monitored closely for the next twenty-four hours that seals the deal. Thank god.

 

Harry books a car to take them home from the hospital and organizes to have his prescription filled at the pharmacy. He collects his crutches, which Louis should be able to use in a few days once the cut on his shin heals a bit, but until then he’s not allowed to put weight on either leg. How very inconvenient. Harry takes detailed notes on his phone when the nurses run through the regime of care for the gash and stitches on Louis’ leg, what to look out for as indicators of an infection, and how to rebandage his ankle. He’s the consummate professional. Nurse Harry indeed.

 

Being wheeled out in a chair to the waiting vehicle isn’t at all embarrassing. Much. But Louis is so relieved to be getting the hell out of there he really could care less.

 

Slightly more mortifying is that Harry has to lift him into the car, which he manages to do as though Louis weighs nothing. He settles him in, fussing around to get his belt on, before sliding into the car from the other side and carefully propping Louis’ feet up on his lap, holding them gently and protectively.

 

The city whizzes by and Louis can’t help but think how much his life has changed in the last eight hours. This morning he was still perplexed by the enigma he called Rocket Man, and now he was about to spend days in close quarters with him, with Harry, being cared for by him round the clock. He can’t quite wrap his head around it. In the hospital, there were nurses and doctors flitting in and out and conversations to listen in on, and people to make up backstories for, but when they get home it’ll be just them. Alone. In Louis’ flat. With only each other to occupy their time.

 

Did he leave his flat in a mess? He loves it, of course, but what will Harry make of it? Overlooking the L-train and in a not-so-great-neighborhood. And how is it going to work? Where will Harry sleep? Where will Louis sleep for that matter? He can’t very well climb the ladder to his loft bed. He’s going to need help getting around, to the toilet and the bath, and dressing, and… Louis is suddenly overcome with anxiety and a little bit of embarrassment.

 

As if on cue, Harry starts to rub his good shin, soothing Louis instinctively.

 

“So. Must be good to be out of there? Hospitals aren’t exactly the nicest places to spend time,” Harry says as he continues to stroke his thumb back and forth on Louis’ leg.

 

They’d been sitting in comfortable silence since they left the hospital, but Louis is grateful for the interruption, unimpressed with the downward panic spiral his brain had decided to embark on.

 

“Yeah. Just wanna get out of these clothes and wash up. Still got grass and dirt and sweat on me,” Louis says and yup, his brain is off and running again. Thoughts of Harry having to help him in the bath filling his mind and making him flush.

 

“Hey. It’s okay. We’ll just take it one metaphorical step at a time, yeah?” A smile spreading across his face.

 

Louis chuckles. Damn, he’s good. Maybe in addition to Harry’s other talents, he can also read minds. 

 

“I know I’d be nervous. I’m practically a stranger, and now I’m going to be in your house, for the foreseeable future.”

 

“You’re far from a stranger, Harry. But I appreciate your understanding.” Louis reaches over and takes Harry’s hand, squeezing lightly.

 

They stare at each other for a few seconds before Louis starts to flush again. Maybe it’s the medication? And though he actually kind of doubts that it is, he lets himself off the hook anyway, it’s been a rough day after all.

 

The car pulls to a stop outside the restaurant, releasing them from the moment, and Louis sighs. “Home.”

 

Harry sorts out payment, above Louis’ protests, and thanks the driver as Louis sees Milly opening the door to the restaurant and shouting behind her for Niall. Her voice coming through even though the car windows are closed. That girl sure has a set of lungs on her.

 

Niall and Milly jog over to the car and knock on the window until the driver lowers it.

 

“Aye up Tommo!” Niall smirks and pokes his head inside the car. “You two look cozy in there.” Louis rolls his eyes.

 

Niall moves out of the way as Harry opens his door and carefully lifts Louis’ feet off his lap. “Stay there Lou, I’ll come and grab you.” Harry slides out from underneath Louis’ feet and bounds out of the car.

 

Louis hears the boot open and Harry giving instructions to Niall and Milly, bless him, and watches as they head over to the entry. Niall is carrying the crutches and bag of stuff from the hospital and Milly punches in the security code before propping her foot in the doorway to keep it open as Harry opens Louis’ door.

 

Harry leans into the car, arms outstretched and knees braced on either side of the opening, motioning for Louis to scoot backward. “Alright then. Same as at the hospital, except in reverse and without the chair. You set?”

 

It’s not the manliest or most graceful moment he’s ever had in his life, but he figures that it’s only the beginning and things are going to get more embarrassing from here on out, so he does as asked and scoots back on his bum, twisting his upper body and hooking his arm around Harry’s neck.

 

Harry scoops him up, bridal style, careful not to bump his legs as he bends his knees, taking Louis’ weight before standing and hiking him up, turning towards the door where Milly is waiting.

 

Milly has a cheeky grin on her face, clearly enjoying the spectacle. Louis glares at her. “Oi! That’s enough out of you.”

 

“What?” Milly says, feigning innocence as Louis fixes her with a withering stare. Harry turns and threads through the doorway, pausing once they’re inside for Milly to go past them to call the lift. Louis is sure he can hear her snickering.

 

Louis feels ridiculous. Absolutely, completely, and utterly ridiculous. Going up in the slowest lift on the planet with one of his staff and being carried by a man who he’d never actually spoken to before that morning, the absurdity of the situation hits him and he can’t hold it in anymore. He starts to giggle. Milly looks around at him and for a moment, it seems like she’s going to hold it together, but then she too starts up. Within seconds Louis is laughing uncontrollably, trying and failing, to stem the tide with his free hand over his mouth. He turns and looks at Harry who is staring at them like they’re crazy, but then Harry honks out a loud guffaw and starts shaking, causing Louis and Milly to laugh harder.

 

“Stop!” Harry says. “I can’t laugh or I’ll…” More laughter. “...drop you!”

 

“Ooowww. My ankle. Stop shaking you, idiot!” Louis says and smacks Harry in the chest. That just makes all three of them erupt in new peels of laughter. Louis is a little worried Harry might actually drop him.

 

They’re spluttering and giggling and Milly has leaned over to brace herself on her knees when the lift doors open to find a bemused Niall standing before them.

 

“What the fuck?” Niall says as he takes in the scene in front of him.

 

“Out! God. Out!” Harry groans, still laughing, and with that, Niall joins in the chorus, clutching at his stomach.

 

Harry jostles Louis up further up his chest to get a better grip and tries to stifle his laughter as they spill out of the lift.

 

“Come on. Let’s get you settled and give Harry’s poor back a break.” Niall manages to get out, laughter dying down as they head towards the open door of Louis’ apartment.

 

Harry and Louis go through first and head towards the couch, Harry depositing him gently and then standing up to stretch out his back.

 

“You know. You’re not as light as you look,” Harry says, grinning as he twists and turns from his waist, raising his arms above his head. Now that’s an image that will haunt Louis’ dreams.

 

“I beg your pardon? I’m as light as a feather, thank you very much.” Louis pretends to be affronted as he tries, and fails, to drag his eyes away from Harry’s long lean body. It’s not his fault, really it isn’t. Harry is standing right there, his crotch at eye level from Louis’ position on the couch. He likes to consider himself strong-willed, but no one could blame him for ogling the man in front of him. He’s quite the vision.

 

Harry’s eyes drift back down as he lowers his arms and catches Louis admiring the view. He cocks his hip and tilts his head, grinning even more devilishly. Arsehole. Louis meets his eyes, not willing to back down, and would like very much to wipe the smug expression off his face, but really, he can’t be bothered. He’s tired and sore and needs to wash the hospital smell off himself, which of course, he can’t do on his own. He needs Harry.

 

Niall rests the crutches against the wall in the corner and then wanders over to place the bag of supplies on the kitchen counter.

 

Harry grabs a couple of couch cushions and props Louis’ feet up before surveying the room and snapping to attention. “Right,” he says clapping his hands together. “Let’s get this sorted.”

 

“Niall, can you go up and grab Louis’ bedding and pillows from the loft,” Harry instructs, pointing up to the platform above the bathroom.

 

“Aye aye, captain!” Niall shouts enthusiastically, saluting towards Harry.

 

Harry turns his attention to Milly next. “Would you mind putting the kettle on, Milly? I’m sure Louis must be gasping for a brew.”

 

“Sure! No problemo,” Milly says happily and pops behind the counter, kettle clanging and water running.

 

Looking satisfied with his team at work, Harry turns back to Louis. “Alright then. Now for you. You,” he points at Louis, “need to stay put, for now. Niall will get you comfortable enough for the moment and Milly will bring you a cuppa. That should occupy you until I get back.” Louis looks at him quizzically. Harry’s leaving?

 

Harry crouches down and takes Louis’ hand. “Hey. Don’t worry. I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Just gonna race home and grab a few things, yeah?” Harry says reassuringly. 

 

Louis wants to tell him he’s fine and perfectly capable of being left for twenty minutes, and with two other adults to boot. But he actually does feel a little nervous that Harry is leaving. He’s been with him all day, ever since the fall, and he hadn’t expected to be parted from him so soon. It’s stupid, and he knows it, so he sucks in a breath.

 

“Yeah, okay. No worries,” Louis mumbles softly, and Harry looks at him, concerned.

 

“Incoming!” Niall shouts as pillows start to land with soft thuds in the living area.

 

“I’ll be back before you even notice I’m gone,” Harry says softly as more projectiles land around them.

 

Louis tries to smile. “I know. Sorry. Don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He casts his eyes downwards to their joined hands.

 

“You’ve had a shit of day, it’s perfectly understandable.”

 

Louis looks up through his eyelashes. “Thank you, Harry, for everything. I can’t believe you’re doing this. You barely even know me.” 

 

“Of course, Lou. Nowhere else I need to be and nowhere else I’d rather be. And anyway,” Harry says, rubbing his thumb over Louis’ knuckles as the duvet from Louis’ bed sails down from above, billowing like a sail before it settles on the floor. “If we don’t get you back on your feet, who’s going to make my soups?”

 

Louis chuckles. “Yeah, yeah, knew you only liked me because I feed you. Typical,” he says with an eye roll.

 

“Oops. You caught me.” Harry smiles. “Now,” he says as he pats Louis’ thigh and stands, shouting over towards the kitchen where Niall is now helping Milly make the tea. “Look after our patient, you two, I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

 

“Yes, sir!” Niall and Milly shout in unison. He has idiots for friends. Wonderful, kind, amazing idiots, but idiots nonetheless. 

 

Harry starts to walk towards the door and then Louis shouts. “Wait!” Harry stops and turns in the entry hallway. “Yeah, Lou?”

 

“In the table near the door, in the drawer, there’s uhm, there’s a spare key. It’s on a Big Ben keychain. Take that with you,” Louis says as Harry pauses, looking at him bemused. “It’ll… it’ll be easier if you just take that.” Louis feels a blush spread up his neck. It’s just practical Louis assures himself, doesn’t mean anything else.

 

“Uhm, right. Yeah. Makes sense,” Harry says as he starts to rifle through the drawer.

 

Louis looks over to the kitchen where Niall and Milly are wearing matching smirks. He takes it back. His friends are monumental idiots. Louis mouths a silent ‘what?’, shrugging his shoulders before turning back to Harry.

 

“The code is seven, five, nine, three, for the building door and then that key is for the door to the flat.”

 

“Okay. Got it.” Harry gives him a thumbs up before turning on his heel and opening the door. “Back soon!” He shouts, and then he’s gone.

 

“Just take the key,” Niall says, mimicking Louis.

 

“It’ll be easier.” Milly joins in.

 

“Fuck off! Both of you. Idiots.”

 

Niall and Milly come out from behind the kitchen counter giggling and Milly jumps into Niall’s arms, bridal style. 

 

“Oooohhhh Harry. You’re so big and strong.” Milly swoons as Niall spins her around.

 

Before any of them can react, the door swings open and Harry comes back inside.

 

“Lou, I’m just gonna-“

 

Niall and Milly freeze mid-spin and Louis squeals. Very manly indeed.

 

“What the…?” Harry says, mouth dropping open into a perfect O, as Niall sets Milly down, both of them looking sheepish and Milly straightening her apron.

 

Louis would like very much for the couch to swallow him whole.

 

But then Harry laughs. “You guys are idiots.”

 

“Thank you! That’s what I’ve been saying!” Louis shouts, flinging his hands in the air.

 

“Sorry,” Niall says, a pleading smile on his face. “Yeah. Sorry, Harry,” Milly adds, looking down at her feet.

 

Harry just chuckles and looks to Louis. “Anyway, I just thought I’d grab some groceries while I’m out, so I’ll be a bit longer than twenty minutes. Didn’t want you to worry, Lou,” Harry says as he heads back to the door.

 

“Thanks, Harry, great idea. See you when you get back!” Louis shouts after him.

 

“Look after him, you idiots!” And with that, Harry waves and steps over the threshold, shutting the door behind him.

 

Louis slowly turns his head, a deep scowl on his face. “You two. Are dead. If I could fucking MOVE I’d be strangling you right now.” Louis growls at them.

 

“Shit. Sorry mate,” Niall says, clearly embarrassed.

 

“Fuuuck,” Louis groans, hands over his face.

 

“Huh. He’s really cool,” Milly says, still fiddling with her apron.

 

“Oi! Where’s my tea, you cretins? And hand me some pillows Nialler,” Louis says, deciding he’ll milk this for all he can.

 

“Yes, boss.” They both mumble and get to the tasks at hand. Niall tries to make Louis comfortable with pillows behind his back and Milly brings him his tea, pushing the coffee table over so he can reach it. They get him the remotes and then turn on the TV and Louis brings up Netflix and starts scrolling.

 

Niall cleans up the breakfast dishes before joining Louis on the couch while Milly flits around, adjusting the curtains so the sun isn’t shining on the TV screen, getting Louis a second cuppa.

 

In no time, Harry is back, shouldering a large duffle bag and carrying four bags of groceries. Louis isn’t sure how long Harry is intending to stay, but it looks like he’s come well prepared. Louis isn’t ashamed to admit it warms his heart. He was only gone about forty minutes, but Louis is glad he’s back.

 

“Okay. We’re gonna make a move unless you guys need anything else.” Niall says as he motions towards the door. It’s just after five and they need to head back down to the restaurant to get ready for dinner service.

 

“Nope. All good. Thanks, guys,” Harry says from the kitchen where he’s unpacking the groceries. “You guys head off, we’ll be just fine.”

 

“Thanks again for doing this mate,” Niall says. “It’s nice to know he’ll be in such good hands. You’re a good egg, Harry.”

 

Harry smiles broadly. “It’s my pleasure, really.”

 

“Ok! We’re off!” Niall shouts as he and Milly head towards the door, Harry in tow.

 

“Do you need us to bring dinner up for you?” Milly asks as they walk out into the hallway.

 

“Nah, we’ll be fine for tonight, thanks though. See you both tomorrow.” Harry waves and shuts the door behind them and then it’s just the two of them.

 

Louis watches some TV as Harry finishes unpacking the groceries. He’s getting uncomfortable and really wants a bath, but he doesn’t know how to broach the subject.

 

Again, as if reading Louis mind, Harry comes over and sits on the coffee table.

 

“So. I’m uhm, gonna get changed into something more comfortable and then we’ll see about getting you bathed and changed into some clean clothes yeah?” 

 

“Yeah. Yeah okay. That’d be good. Feel gross.”

 

“Hey. It’s gonna be okay.” Harry places a hand on Louis’ arm. “This’ll be easy, we’re just gonna go slow.”

 

Louis chuckles shyly. “Thanks.”

 

Harry picks up his duffle and heads into the bathroom to change, emerging a few minutes later looking soft and relaxed, and drops his bag to the ground. Louis can hear the bath running in the background and Harry walks over to Louis’ chest of drawers and a picks out some basketball shorts, a long-sleeved shirt, and boxers.

 

“These okay?” Harry places them on the coffee table. “Figured it will be easier to get you undressed and dressed out here, more room and you can be sitting on the couch.”

 

“Yeah. Good thinking. Thanks.”

 

“Where do you keep your towels?” Louis points over the wall. “Uh, in the closet next to the chest of drawers.” 

 

Harry grabs a couple of towels and goes into the bathroom, shutting off the taps with a squeak.

 

Louis’ heart is starting to race and he tries to remind himself that Harry is a good guy and he’s doing a fantastically selfless thing by even being here, but this is going to be pretty intimate, there’s no way around that.

 

Harry comes back out with one of the towels. “I lit a candle and dimmed the lights, should be nice and relaxing.” 

 

“Mmmm… sounds good.” Louis decides there’s no time like the present so he sits up and lifts his shirt over his head. Breathe. Just breathe you lunatic.

 

He drops his shirt on the coffee table and feels far more naked than he actually is. Harry looks like he’s about to lay the towel over Louis’ midsection and crotch and then stops, looking at Louis questioningly.

 

Louis realizes what Harry is thinking. He’s about to bathe him for fuck's sake, there’s really no need to get shy and try to do some clever hide-behind-the-towel-move like they’re in public.

 

“It’s gonna be easier if we just do this practically,” Louis says as relief washes over Harry’s face. “We’re both grown ups right?”

 

Harry chuckles. “Yeah. Most of the time.”

 

Louis digs his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and alternates lifting his butt cheeks, wiggling the shorts and boxers off.

 

Harry pauses for a moment, averting his gaze from Louis’ crotch. Bless him. “Okay, I’m gonna lift you up, bridal-style. You okay to hold the towel?” He passes Louis the folded towel and he rests it on his lap.

 

Squatting, Harry pushes both hands underneath him, one under his lower back and one under his knees as Louis wraps his arm around Harry’s shoulders.

 

“Here we go.” Harry flexes his biceps and Louis can feel his back muscles rippling with the strain as he picks him up. Fuck he’s fit. Nope. Not the time Louis scolds himself.

 

Louis tries to break the tension. “I could get used to being carried around, you know.” 

 

“Well, I’m certainly not going to need to go to the gym for a while,” Harry huffs out as they walk into the bathroom and it makes Louis smile.

 

Harry sets Louis down on the lid of the toilet and checks the temperature of the water. “Now, you can’t get your stitches or dressing wet, so when I put you in, just rest your leg on the edge of the bath,” Harry says pointing to the towel he’s laid out on the edge.

 

“I’m going to take the pressure bandage off your ankle and we can put it back on after.” Louis must look concerned. “Don’t worry, I’ve got detailed instructions. Might feel a bit tender, being unsupported, but just try not to move it around too much.”

 

Harry kneels down and looks up at Louis. “You all right?”

 

Louis nods and Harry undoes the fastening clip and slowly starts to unwrap the bandage. It feels weird and instantly starts to throb a bit, but it’s manageable and it’ll be worth it to get cleaned up.

 

Harry places the bandage and fastener on the side of the sink and stands, pausing, before whipping his shirt over his head and shucking his sweats to the ground, leaving him in just a pair of tight grey boxer briefs. “Don’t wanna get too wet, yeah?”

 

Louis feels marginally better, partial nakedness all around, but Jesus. Harry’s legs really do go all the way down the ground, he’s like a fucking Adonis. Toned, thick thighs tapering down to athletic calves, his v-Line should be illegal, and his happy trail is just, well it’s just, there. The briefs he’s wearing do absolutely nothing to hide what he’s packing and it’s impressive, thick and curved up to the left. In other circumstances, he would make some sassy remark to ease the tension, but he needs to control himself.

 

“Okay. You ready?”

 

“As I’ll ever be,” Louis chirps, trying to lighten the mood, hand resting on the towel over his lap.

 

“Now I’m gonna try not to look, but my primary concern is not dropping you and cracking your skull open, or, you know, ending up following you into the bath head first.”

 

Louis laughs nervously. “Good plan. And it’s fine Harry. Really.”

 

Louis hands Harry the towel, and Harry, god love him, continues to stare into Louis’ eyes. He bends over and picks Louis up in their now familiar way. Lifting and then lowering Louis into the tub slowly so he can rest his cut leg on the towel.

 

The hot water is like heaven on his skin. Sure he’s embarrassed, but not really as much as he thought he would be and it fades away as the warm water surrounds him.

 

Harry extracts his arms from under Louis body and stands, adjusting his leg to make sure it’s not going to slip, then hands Louis some body wash and a flannel.

 

“Alrighty then. Wasn’t so bad, yeah?” Harry says, hands on hips, water dripping down his forearms and off his wrists to the floor mat below.

 

“Fuck. This feels so good.” Louis rests his head back on the lip of the bath, letting the water cushion the weight of his ankle.

 

“Lift your head up a bit,” Harry says as he places a small terry toweling covered pillow under Louis’ head, smiling shyly. “Brought this from home, thought you’d like it.”

 

Louis rests his head back, and damn, it’s comfortable. “Legend. You’ve thought of everything.” 

 

“I’m gonna give you some privacy, but just call if you need anything. I’ll be back in five minutes to check on you because I’m not supposed to leave you for too long, Mr. Concussion,” Harry says with a wink as he gathers up the bandage and his clothes.

”Yeah cool. Just gonna marinate in my own filth for a while.” Louis smirks, squeezing some body wash onto the flannel and starting to lather it up as Harry heads out the door, leaving it slightly ajar.

 

Louis lifts each of his legs and carefully washes them, soaping up his arms next, then his armpits, torso, and face. His tries to wash his foot but accidentally turns his ankle out of habit and it hurts like a son of a bitch, so he decides to give that a miss for now. He does his dick and balls and ass, shifting from one cheek to the other. It’s awkward, all of it, and his hamstring is getting a good stretch with his leg up on the side of the bath, but he feels better as each minute passes.

 

“You still alive in there?” He hears Harry from outside the open door. “Yeah, all good, having a bit of trouble with a few…” Louis pauses, oh well he thinks, in for a penny. “Could you give me a hand for a sec?”

 

Harry comes into view, worry lines between his brows. “What’s up?”

 

“I can’t really reach my bad foot properly, could you…?” Louis reaches out with the soapy flannel.

 

“Sure Lou, no problem.” Harry kneels down and Louis lifts his foot out of the water, the pull of gravity making it throb. Harry cradles his heel in his hand and the pain subsides. He gently washes the sole and arch and then his toes. It shouldn’t be erotic, it really shouldn't, not given the situation, but he can’t help what he feels. It isn’t just about this one action, it’s everything that has led up to it as well. Harry is so caring and kind and generous, this is just the icing on the cake.

 

“I’m not being too rough, am I?”

 

“Nah. Perfect. Thanks, Harry.”

 

Harry finishes with his foot. “Want me to do your back?”

 

“Uhm, yeah okay. That’d be nice.”

 

Louis slides back a little and sits up, wedging his arse against the end of the bath and leans forward as Harry moves around, placing the flannel on his back and starting to rub in circles. “Did you wash your hair with the body wash Lou?”

 

“Nah. Proper stuff is in the shower caddy.”

 

Harry finishes with his back and grabs Louis’ shampoo and conditioner from the shower, popping the lids of both bottles and giving them a smell. “Coconut. Good choice. Would you like me to wash it for you?”

 

And fuck if Louis doesn’t love getting his hair washed. Sometimes, he’ll go and get his haircut even when it probably doesn’t need it, just so he can have a head massage.

 

“That’d be amazing, thanks. Love people washing my hair. Bit of a sucker for a good head massage to be honest.”

 

Harry smiles and nods. “Yeah, me too.” He pushes the small wooden stool over with his foot to the end of the bath and places the bottles on the ground in arms reach.

 

“Hang on.” A minute later Harry comes back, plastic mixing bowl in his hand. He squats down on the stool behind Louis and then reaches over his shoulder to fill the bowl with water. “Close your eyes,” Harry whispers in his ear and Louis shudders as he closes them, the water cascading down over his back and shoulders.

 

He keeps his eyes closed, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. He hears Harry squirt some shampoo onto his hand, placing his hands onto Louis’ head and spreading it around. He runs his hands down to the nape of Louis’ neck, splaying his fingers and pressing in more firmly on the upstroke. Circling his fingers around the crown of Louis’ head he starts to massage, being sure to avoid the bump on his head, and lightly scratching his fingernails across Louis’ scalp. A few more cycles and then he’s done, filling the bowl again and washing the suds away. 

 

Louis feels like he’s melting into the bottom of the bath. Harry hands and fingers feel amazing, firm and sure, he lets his mind start to wander to dangerous territory, but finds he can’t be arsed to care. Harry repeats the process with the conditioner and is sending Louis into a state of pure bliss. He massages his temples and behind his ears, then presses his thumbs into the top of Louis’ head, holding them there as he pushes his fingers down, threading them through Louis’ hair and applying firm pressure as he goes, scratching as he draws them back to the top.

 

“Fuck.” He moans, and honestly, maybe it’s inappropriate, but considering the situation, he thinks he’s doing quite well. “That feels amazing, Harry.” 

 

Harry keeps massaging and scratching Louis’s scalp and he is feeling more and more aroused as each minute passes. If Louis had to make a list of his most erogenous zones, his scalp would definitely make the top eight with his dick, prostate, rim, balls, nipples, lips and neck securing the top seven places. He feels his dick twitch in acknowledgment. He should open his eyes and snap himself out of this, it’s wrong and he knows it. But he’s naked and exposed with his legs spread and so bloody turned on and Harry's hands are powerful and sure, so he just lets himself enjoy it.

 

The room is warm, with steam still rising from the bath water, the smell of the vanilla candle, the coconut conditioner, and Harry’s own scent is creating an intoxicating and erotic mixture that is making Louis’ head spin. 

 

Harry rinses the conditioner off his hair and then grips Louis shoulders, squeezing firmly before leaning close to his ear. “I’ll be back in a sec, don’t move.” Louis is fairly certain a pack of wild horses couldn’t get him to move right now, but he nods anyway. “Mmmhmmm.”

 

Harry comes back and sits down behind Louis again. “Your shoulders are so tense. From the fall and all the stresses from today. Just gonna give you a quick massage to see if I can loosen the knots a little. That okay?”

 

“What do you reckon?” Louis deadpans.

 

“Hmmmm, okay. Just relax. This massage oil is moisturized as well, so it should feel nice.”

 

“Harry, if I relax anymore I’ll turn to jello.”

 

Harry snorts softly and squirts the oil onto his hands, gently spreading it over Louis’ shoulders and up his neck. He applies firm pressure and starts kneading. It’s fucking amazing.

 

“Fuck yes.” Louis moans, sinking into the feeling. 

 

“You’re so tense, Lou.” Harry’s fingers are magical, digging in at all right places and working the knots out. Louis feels himself start to harden, it’s involuntary really, he’s always been a sucker for a good massage, and his dick seems to agree. He reaches down to cover himself, not wanting Harry to see. As if timed to perfection, Harry digs into a particularly sensitive bit just near his armpit and his dick twitches again, causing the head to rub against his palm and Louis moans.

 

Harry must sense what’s happening and increases the pressure, rubbing and prodding and smoothing. He leans forward and his lips rest on the shell of Louis’ ear, whispering. “It’s okay Lou. Just go with it, it’ll relax you, it’s alright.”

 

Louis is sure he’s having an out of body experience. The smells and sensations all combining to make him feel like he’s not really there, as though what is happening is disconnected from this world.

 

He tentatively takes hold of his dick and squeezes. “Nnrrggh...” The contact sends an electric current around his body, making him shudder and gasp. He starts to move his hand up and down, hard on the upstroke, twisting at the top and then softer on the way back down. He brings his other hand under the water and rolls his tightening balls in the palm of his hand.

 

Harry’s lips are still glued to his ears as he continues to massage his shoulders and neck. “That’s it, Lou, up and down, up, and down. Feels good yeah?”

 

“Yeah. Feels good.” Louis’ breathing is erratic and there is water sloshing around. He feels Harry take a hand away from his shoulders and then something being placed over the dressing on his exposed leg.

 

Louis is moving faster now, chasing his release. His whole body is starting to tingle and he senses the familiar pull in his gut, signaling he’s close.

 

The lips that had been pressed to Louis’ ear are moving now, a small kiss being placed behind his ear, a nip, a suck, hands continuing to push and pull at his loosening muscles. Louis shivers, hand stripping his cock and causing the water to splash. The lips are moving again, around his jaw and Louis turns his head towards them, encouraging them to make their way to where he really wants them. Slowly they creep their way to his cheek and then to the very edge of his mouth. Louis stretches his neck as far as he can and parts his own lips slightly, panting. And then they’re on him, soft and slightly chapped and beautiful. He moans again and tilts his head further, flicking his tongue out and connecting with another, wet and hot and slippery. They slide together and suck and nip before pushing in and deepening, fused as one.

 

Then they’re gone. “Lou,” Harry says on a soft exhale.

 

Louis opens his eyes and sees Harry’s crystal clear green eyes peering into his soul, searching, hopeful. It hits him like a truck. He wants this. He wants Harry. Louis stares at him, nodding and whispers. “Harry, please.” 

 

Harry smiles and takes his hands away from Louis’ shoulders, scooting the stool around to sit beside the bath, knees spread wide. He leans back in and cups Louis’ neck with one hand, Louis smiles just as Harry is closing the gap. The kiss is much more desperate this time. Exploring each other's mouths with abandon, sliding and gliding, teeth and tongue. Louis’ senses are in overdrive. He wants his release, but also never wants this to end.

 

Harry reaches into the bath and pushes Louis’ hand away, replacing it with his own, still slick from the oil. Louis lets out a guttural growl and grips the side of the bath tightly. Harry starts with a maddeningly slow pace, getting a feel for Louis.

 

Louis whines high in his throat and reaches out of the bath for Harry’s crotch, rubbing and squeezing him through his boxers.

 

Harry breaks away from the kiss and stares at Louis like he’s going to devour him. “Fuck Lou, yeah, that’s it, baby.” Harry groans and ups his speed on Louis’ dick, diving back to his mouth and tongue fucking him in time as he jerks Louis off.

 

Louis digs into Harry’s briefs and pulls his cock out, it feels huge, but he can’t see, not wanting to break away from the onslaught of Harry’s mouth and tongue.

 

Harry releases the back of Louis neck and fumbles around for something on the ground, then Louis hears the telltale sound of a bottle cap. Oil drips down over Louis’ hand as it works Harry over, making the glide so much smoother.

 

Harry cradles Louis’ head in his hand again, pulling their mouths impossibly closer together, teeth clashing, but it’s perfect, so fucking perfect.

 

Louis gives it his all, tugging and twisting and jerking, putting pressure on the sensitive underside of Harry’s dick, eliciting a string of curses that are muffled in Louis’ mouth.

 

Harry speeds up and Louis knows the end is near. He breaks away from the kiss, leaning his head back on the pillow and pants. “Fuck, Harry, yes. Wanna come, please. Make me come, Harry.” 

 

On the next upstroke, Harry dips his fingernail into Louis’ slit and that’s all it takes. Louis screams and arches his back, coming harder than he can ever remember. It’s pulsing out of him and he feels waves of pleasure roll through his body. His hand is batted away from Harry’s cock and he hears the sounds of Harry stripping his own cock, followed by a long moan mere seconds later. “Fuuuck. Lou. Fuck.”

 

Louis lets his arm float in the water for a moment, the other still hooked over the side of the bath, coming down from his high. He knows this is going to be uncomfortable and embarrassing, but wants to allow himself a few more minutes of bliss before his world comes crashing down.

 

As he’s considering his fate, soft lips startle him out of his stupor. Kissing their way back along his jaw and around to his waiting mouth. “Thank you, Lou, that was amazing.”

 

He opens his eyes and Harry pulls back to look at him, a soft smile gracing his face. So, world not crashing down then.

 

“No. Thank you, Harry. Fuck. That was…”

 

“Yeah. Bloody hell.” Harry chuckles. “Do you feel relaxed now?”

 

“Cheeky.” Louis smiles, eyes crinkling. “Yeah. Damn. Feel like I could doze off right here.” Louis yawns as if on cue, laughing halfway through and bringing his hand up to cover his mouth.

 

“Well, we can’t have that now can we.” Harry presses another kiss to Louis’ lips and then grabs the flannel floating in the bath, wringing it out and cleaning himself up. He stands, tucking himself back into his briefs but not before Louis gets an eyeful of one of the largest and most beautiful dicks he’s ever seen in real life. His mouth gapes and Harry laughs. “Careful Lou, I might find something to put in that sinful mouth of yours if you keep leaving it open like that.”

 

Louis snaps his mouth shut and smirks. “Yeah, big boy? I am a bit peckish actually.”

 

Harry rolls his eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

 

“Big words for a big boy, I like it.”

 

“Right. Let’s get you out of the bath and rinsed off. Not sure if this has made you cleaner, or just more dirty.”

 

“Definitely more dirty.” Louis waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

 

Harry rolls his eyes again, but giggles too, so Louis will take that as a win.

 

Louis takes the plug out and the bathwater drains away while Harry turns on the handheld showerhead and gets a good temperature. He washes Louis off and the gets him as dry as he can while he’s still sitting in the tub.

 

Getting Louis out of the bath is more difficult than getting him in, but after a few slippery moments, Harry hoists Louis up in a towel and carries him out to the lounge.

 

Unsurprisingly, Louis isn’t anywhere near as embarrassed as he was before his bath as Harry lays him down on the lounge and grabs the clothes for Louis to dress. It’s a slow and careful process, as is reapplying the pressure bandage on Louis’ ankle, but they laugh and joke with each other the entire time. It’s comfortable, familiar and Louis is so happy he could burst.

 

“I bought some frozen meals for dinner tonight,” Harry calls from the kitchen. “I thought it would be easier than bothering them in the restaurant. We could uhm... Netflix and chill?”

 

“Well, I think it’ll kinda be Chill and Netflix because we already did the Chill part,” he winks and Harry laughs. “But yeah, sounds good. They’re going to be pretty busy tonight without me there, better not to bug them for this evening.” Louis is missing the buzz of the kitchen and all of the activity on the floor, but also relishing in being holed up here with Harry.

 

Harry prepares the meals as Louis flips through the channels. “Anything, in particular, you feel like watching?”

 

“Nah. You choose. Maybe no horror movies or anything with too much action? But really, whatever you want will be okay with me.” Harry walks back over with their two plates on one arm and a bottle of water and two glasses clutched in his big hand. He lays the meals out and pours their water, handing Louis his tablets which he dutifully takes.

 

Harry props Louis’ feet up on a pillow on top of the coffee table and sits down beside him. Louis didn’t realize how hungry he was and scoffs down his food, Harry following closing behind.

 

There’s no conversation about what happened in the bathroom, but Louis senses there doesn’t need to be. They settle back on the couch, Harry’s arm around Louis’ shoulders as Louis tucks himself underneath, and when Harry places a kiss on the top of Louis’ head, he has all the answers he needs.


	4. As You Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes sex is slow, sometimes sex is funny, sometimes sex is the best darn thing in the world, and sometimes it’s all of those things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for coming on this journey with me. This is the last chapter so I hope you enjoy it!

Louis jolts awake and blinks open his eyes to find darkness enveloping him. There is a moment where everything is peaceful, his dream still tugging at the edge of his consciousness. Green and brown leaves dancing on a breeze, as they came together to form chocolate curls around a blurred face, the only distinguishable feature was a pair of deep jade, soulful eyes. He tries to hold onto it, to let himself fall back in and be pulled under, but a niggling pain in his leg calls for his attention. He shifts and the sensation shoots up around his body, muscles aching and head pounding.

 

He groans, which only encourages his throbbing temple, so he stills and tries to just breathe through it. A shuffling to his side startles him and he tenses, which makes him groan out again, starting the cycle all over. Well, this is going swimmingly. Bloody hell.

 

“Lou…?” he hears someone murmur beside him. 

 

Harry. The fall. Right.

 

He wants to speak but is afraid to make any kind of sound lest he makes matters worse. Light from a phone illuminates the room.

 

“Lou? You okay?”

 

“Head. Hurts,” Louis forces out on a whisper.

 

“Shit. Hang on.” Harry shuffles around and gets to his feet, padding over to the lamp and only stumbling twice on the way. “Close your eyes.”

 

Louis does as he’s told and Harry clicks on the lamp, a soft, yellow light filtering through behind his eyelids. He hears Harry move into the kitchen, opening the fridge and turning on the tap, the telltale sound of a blister pack being popped to release his medication.

 

He feels their makeshift bed on the living room floor dip to his side, Harry’s hand snaking underneath his shoulder blades gently. “Here, can you sit up a bit. You can have some more painkillers.”

 

Louis cranes his neck forward and opens his mouth. It hurts like a son of a bitch, the blood feeling like it’s trying to force its way out of the egg on his head, but it’ll be better if he can get these pills down.

 

Harry places the tablets on his tongue and slowly tips some water inside, just enough to wet his mouth and allow him to swallow.

 

“More water?”

 

“Mmmmm… thirsty,” Louis manages to croak out.

 

“Alright.” Harry moves and slots himself in behind Louis. “Here, lean back on me a bit, rest your head.”

 

Louis pushes back, and up, just enough to prop himself on Harry’s chest, body protesting. Harry brings the cup to his lips and he takes another sip.

 

“I brought the ice pack too, bend your knee for me.”

 

Louis does and Harry reaches down, a cold weight seeping through the bandage on his ankle, dulling the pain.

 

“You’re probably a bit dehydrated. I should’ve been waking you to get you to drink more, but you were sleeping so soundly and then I must’ve fallen asleep too. Sorry.”

 

“What time is it?”

 

“Uhm… just gone six-thirty,” Harry says as he stokes Louis arm. “You’ve been asleep for a good while. I woke you at three for your antibiotics, but you went straight back out.”

 

“I- I don’t even remember.”

 

“Yeah. You were pretty out of it.”

 

Louis lolls his head to the side, inhaling Harry’s warm, sleepy smell. “Fuck. Everything hurts.”

 

“Yeah. The second day is always the worst.”

 

“Awesome.”

 

“But it’s okay. You’ve got good drugs and a comfy bed and Netflix and someone to wait on you hand and foot so you can just take it easy all day.”

 

“See, now you make that  _ sound _ appealing, and if it wasn’t for the bit where I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck, I’d be excited.”

 

Harry chuckles, raising the glass and Louis takes a bigger drink. “Nope. No excitement for you today, mister.”

 

Louis pouts and the movement of his facial muscles drag the skin stretched over the bump on his forehead, reminding him why he’s banned from excitement of any kind.

 

As though the water has made a beeline for his bladder he suddenly, desperately, needs to wee. Great. 

 

“Fucking hell. I need to piss.”

 

“I know you’re not gonna be keen on this…” Harry trails off.

 

“No. Uh-ah. Not pissing in a bottle.”

 

“As you wish.”

 

Louis sniggers and regrets it immediately. “Ooouch. You’re not allowed to make me laugh. Also. You’re not allowed to quote the Princess Bride at me, you idiot.”

 

“Awwwww Lou. You’re no fun.”

 

“Plus. If anyone is Westley in this scenario it’s me. You’re totally Princess Buttercup.”

 

“Sure, Lou. You keep telling yourself that. But may I remind you that I was the one who swooped in and saved you.”

 

Louis huffs and Harry kisses him on the top of his head.

 

“Such a grumpy little kitten,” Harry chides.

 

“If I wasn’t physically incapable of moving I’d beat the crap out of you.”

 

“Okay, tough guy.”

 

“You’re infuriating.”

 

“Maybe so, but I’m the only thing that can save this mattress from a nasty pee stain, so how about we sort out that little problem first. When we get back I’ll lay down in surrender and you can beat me to a pulp with your adorably tiny little fists.”

 

Louis gasps, mock offended. “How very  _ dare _ you!”

 

Harry laughs and jostles Louis against his chest.

 

“Again. Ouch,” Louis deadpans. “No laughing while being my pillow. Actually, no laughing of any kind, for any reason, for the foreseeable future.”

 

“As you wish.”

 

Louis rolls his eyes, even though he knows Harry can’t see. “You’re infuriating.”

 

“So you’ve said.”

 

Harry slides out from behind him, taking Louis’ weight in his arms and lays him back down. “Alright. Pee time!”

 

Louis feels a bit like a rag doll, lying on his side awkwardly and waiting for Harry to pick him up. “Don’t sound so fucking happy about it, this is going to be a nightmare of gargantuan proportions.”

 

“Such big words for such a little Princess,” Harry coos. “Now come on, let’s get you to your throne.”

 

“I hate you.”

 

“Hate me later, let’s just focus on you not pissing your pants, yeah?”

 

“Fine. But we’re not done with this.” Louis raises his arms and Harry slides his hands underneath his back and knees.

 

“Didn’t think we were, Your Highness.”

 

Louis bites him on the shoulder and Harry winces. He totally deserved it though.

 

Harry does an impressive job of lifting Louis’ deadweight from a crouch and carries him carefully to the bathroom, flicking the light switch on with his shoulder. He sets Louis down on the toilet seat and stands back, furrowing his brows.

 

“Uh, guess I didn’t think this through completely. Still a bit sleepy.”

 

“All good. I’ve got this,” Louis says as he lifts one bum cheek and then the other, sliding his pants down to his ankles before raising his arms up.

 

Harry cottons on and lifts Louis up again, leaning him towards the toilet so he can lift the lid and then sits him down again.

 

“Teamwork, see,” Louis nods and starts to pee, making sure he doesn’t put any weight on his legs. “Ahhhhhh… that’s better.”

 

“Oh, I should uhm…”

 

“What? Give me some privacy? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m fairly sure we’re past that.”

 

Harry chuckles, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “You hungry? I could make us some tea and toast?”

 

“Yeah, for sure. Sounds great,” Louis says as he grabs a few squares of loo roll to wipe off before reaching over to the basin. Harry turns on the taps and hands him a towel.

 

“Alright. You ready?”

 

“Yup!”

 

Harry picks him up and Louis leans down, flushing and closing the lid. They repeat the process in reverse like a well-oiled machine and Harry carries him back to their nest of blankets and pillows, propping him up and making him as comfortable as possible. Louis snuggles in and sighs contentedly, the painkillers doing a damn fine job, for now.

 

“What do you like on your toast? Harry calls from the kitchen.

 

“Butter and a scraping of vegemite, please…” Louis waits for it.

 

“You what?!”

 

There it is.

 

“I had this Aussie mate in culinary school, swore by the stuff, he got me hooked. Best hangover cure in the world. Trust me. It’s basically pure salt.”

 

Harry is staring, mouth agape, bread bag half twisted open, frozen on the spot.

 

“Alright…?”

 

They chat amiably while Harry makes their breakfast, completely at home in Louis’ flat. Harry asks about how he came to Chicago and what drove him to decide that the restaurant life was for him. Harry tries the vegemite toast and doesn’t immediately gag which Louis takes as a win, although he does wash it down with almost an entire cup of milky tea.

 

Louis tells him about the struggles he and Niall faced in trying to set up their business, how he feared it was all going to under, worried that it would’ve all been for naught. He tells him about how he was afraid to fail the staff, to let Niall down, to let himself down.

 

He tells him about how everything changed when Harry had wandered into their lives on that cold day, and how grateful he is every single waking moment that Harry kept coming back and helped them to turn their business around. Harry blushes and tries to deflect, but Louis doesn’t let him. Kissing him quiet and snuggling in close.

 

Harry listens intently, hanging off every word, gently probing with questions and getting Louis to open up to him in a way Louis can’t recall ever doing with another person.

 

The sun rises, beams of light streaming into their little cocoon and casting shadows over the space. It’s warm and cozy and Harry lays next to him, trailing soft fingertips over his arm. It’s peaceful, so unfathomably peaceful, and Louis has never felt so comfortable with someone before.

 

Louis gradually shifts the conversation, wanting to know more about this enigma sharing his bed, caring for him, protecting him.

 

“So what drew you to our little restaurant then?”

 

Harry looks down to where he’s stroking Louis’ arm, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Uhm… don’t be creeped out, okay?”

 

Louis quirks a brow and, ouch.

 

Harry chuckles when he sees Louis wince. “I… well, I saw you and Niall one night, locking up. I was heading home and there you were, god, you were so beautiful in the lamplight, all rugged up against the cold, but sad too. I was mesmerized.” Harry looks up, eyes searching, hopeful.

 

“You thought I was beautiful?” Louis whispers, overwhelmed.

 

“Yeah. The most stunning creature I’d ever seen. I wanted to know you, wanted to know what could possibly have made you sad. I wanted to make it go away. You should never be sad, Lou.”

 

Harry strokes down his cheek, soft and reverent. “I wanted to see you again. But then I came to the restaurant and just didn’t know what to do. I’d only caught a glimpse of you that night, but seeing you in the daylight, you were like a vision, flitting in and out of the kitchen, conducting the restaurant like a maestro. I was so intimidated by you. And your food. Fuck, Lou. Your food is just…”

 

Louis is trembling, Harry’s words stirring emotions inside of him that are unfamiliar, his sincerity and openness so refreshingly different. Louis is struggling to process what’s he’s feeling.

 

“Kiss me, Harry.”

 

Harry’s eyes widen and a smile spreads across his face as he leans in. Soft lips caressing his own, the flavour of tea and the salty vegemite combining with their own tastes. It’s heady and moorish and Louis can’t get enough. He wants to wrap himself in Harry’s essence and drown in it.

 

Their passion rises and then quells, small nips and sucks and swipes taking over as their breathing eases, returning to earth with gentle grace. It’s so normal, and yet, not. Like they’ve been doing this for an eternity, but so new and exciting at the same time.

 

Harry pulls back with a final kiss to the side of Louis’ mouth. “So, you don’t think I’m a creep?”

 

Louis pretends to consider it for a moment, earning an eye roll from the man beside him. “Maybe a bit, but you’re  _ my _ creep.”

 

Harry smiles, relief washing over his features. “Yeah, I am. I’m really quite gone for you, Lou. Reckon I was from the minute I laid eyes on you, actually. Didn’t stand a chance.”

 

They explore each other’s mouths and minds languidly, for what seems like hours. Sharing secrets and hopes and dreams. Quiet moments and stolen kisses. Soft fingers and breathy laughs. Perfect. Comfortable. Safe.

 

Harry makes them lunch, and tea, and gives Louis his medications on a strict schedule. Fussing over him without smothering him. Harry bathes him and helps him change into clean clothes when Louis complains he feels gross, and dutifully takes him to the loo when his bladder protests the copious amounts of tea he’s drunk. He ices his ankle and checks his dressing just like the nurses had instructed him.

 

It’s mid-afternoon when Harry rouses him from a nap, waking him with kisses to his temple and light scratches on his scalp, and giving Louis his next dose of painkillers and antibiotics.

 

Louis’ muscles and limbs are aching less and less with each hour that passes and he’s almost feeling human. Almost.

 

Harry is absentmindedly flicking through Netflix when Louis decides to ask the question that’s been nagging at him for months.

 

“So… rocks?”

 

A smile spreads across Harry’s face and he lolls his head back onto the pillow propped against the couch, shutting off the television.

 

“Yeah. That. Uhm.”

 

“Yeah.  _ That _ . What made you leave me little piles of rocks, Rocket Man?”

 

Harry chuckles, sliding down and turning on his side to face Louis. “I’d been for my morning walk along the river bank and had picked up some stones to skip along the water. It was so still, and the fog was heavy. I wanted to see how far I could skip them. Whether the fog would eat them up before they dropped.” Harry trails his fingers down Louis’ side, skimming over the sensitive skin at his waist where his shirt has rolled up.

 

“It was the fog, in case you’re wondering. It was so amazing, Lou, like something out of movie,” Harry says with awe in his voice. “I had a pocket full of them and ended up with some smaller ones left over. When I came in for lunch, I was so bloody nervous,” Harry chuckles, wrapping his huge hand around Louis’ hip and squeezing. “I wanted to leave something behind, a piece of me maybe? It’s silly, I know, but it seemed right at the time. It just kind of escalated from there.”

 

“Well, it certainly did the trick,” Louis murmurs.

 

Harry’s eyes trail down to where he’s touching Louis. It’s so intense, like they’re on the precipice of something bigger, so much more than just the simple connection of skin on skin.

 

“The whole day had felt monumental, in a way, the fog, coming to the restaurant.” Harry looks up, fixing his gaze. “You.”

 

Harry’s eyes flick away, it’s almost imperceptible, but Louis sees it nonetheless, staring so intently that couldn’t possibly have missed it. “I write. I mean, I’m a writer.” 

 

“Yeah? That’s. Wow, that’s amazing, Haz.” The nickname falling out of his mouth before he can stop it.

 

It seems to do the trick though and Harry’s eyes brighten, relief shining through.

 

“Yeah, uhm… short stories and poetry, silly stuff mostly. But I write articles too,” Harry says quickly, as though he needs to justify his writing and make it into something else, something more palatable, more legitimate, although Louis doesn’t understand why.

 

Harry seems unsure of himself, and that won’t do, so Louis reaches out and tucks his hand under Harry’s rib cage, and shuffles closer, bringing his other his hand up to stroke his hair reassuringly.

 

“What were you writing that day?”

 

“Oh. Uhm. I was writing about you, actually,” Harry says bashfully. “A poem.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. About seeing you the night before in the street, the fog in the morning, your eyes, how it all made me feel. Like something was shifting in the world.”

 

Louis runs his fingertips down Harry’s cheek, feeling the light scruff on his face, letting them swipe along his plush bottom lip and come to rest, cupping his jaw. “Sounds beautiful, Harry.”

 

“ _ You _ are. You’re beautiful. I- I can’t stop writing about you. I must’ve written thousands of words by now, filled a couple of journals already.”

 

Louis sucks in a breath. It’s so much to take in. This gorgeous man, laying himself bare, opening up to him, talking so openly about his feelings, Louis can’t breathe.

 

He snakes his hand around Harry’s neck and pulls him in, pressing their lips together. Louis whimpers, senses in overdrive. He wants him so much, so completely, more than he’s ever wanted anyone or anything before.

 

“Fuck me, Harry. Please. Need to feel you inside me,” Louis says as noses under Harry’s jaw, nipping up to the sensitive skin just below his ear.

 

Harry’s grip tightens on his hip, a shudder coursing through his body, strong enough for Louis to feel it. “God, fuck,  _ Lou _ ,” Harry moans out. “Yeah. Yeah, want that.” Harry’s brows furrow. “But your ankle, and… we said no excitement.”

 

Louis draws back and looks at Harry with hooded eyes. “Well, then you’ll just have to take it slow, yeah?” He runs the back of his hand down Harry’s chest and stomach, his abs clenching and breath stuttering. “You can be gentle with me, I know you can.”

 

Louis gazes up through his eyelashes and watches as Harry’s resolve starts to crumble. He presses on, wanting to let Harry know it’s okay, to convey how much he wants him, wants this. “Want you to open me up on those long fingers, make sure you can glide in without hurting me. Spoon me and make me feel you. Want to feel you buried deep inside, Haz, so deep.”

 

“Y-Yeah. Want that. Want you so much, Lou. Never wanted anyone this much. Never felt this way,” Harry murmurs, ducking down and sucking a bruise into Louis’ neck.

 

Louis cups Harry’s jaw and brings his head back up to gaze into his eyes, wanting to see Harry’s response and lock it away in his memory forever. “Make love to me, Harry,” Louis whispers.

 

Harry’s eyes are glistening, and he nods, smile beaming as he dives in for another kiss. It’s passionate and urgent and so, so much. Louis can feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, overwhelmed.

 

Louis breaks away, pointing towards the loft. “Bedside table.”

 

Harry extracts himself and crawls off their makeshift bed, scurrying over to the ladder and returning in record time, dropping the lube and strip of condoms on the floor.

 

“Speedy,” Louis says with a smirk.

 

“Motivated,” Harry deadpans and a giggle escapes Louis’ mouth.

 

Harry stays standing, eyeing Louis hungrily. He reaches behind his shoulder blades and pulls off his shirt, discarding it on the ground. Tucking his fingers into the waistband of his sweats, he shucks them and his boxers down and steps out, kicking them away.

 

He’s a vision. All long and lean, milky white skin, and tattoos that Louis will absolutely devour at some point.

 

“God. Get  _ down _ here. Look at you. All fucking… sex on legs,” Louis groans as he waves his hand around. “Shit. Come on, Haz.”

 

Harry laughs and drops to his knees. “You’re the sexy one. Jesus. Look at  _ you _ .”

 

“Yeah? Want some of this?” Louis runs his hands down his stomach enticingly and lifts the hem of his shirt up above his nipples.

 

“God yeah,” Harry plants his hands either side of Louis’ hips and ducks his head down, taking one nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking, sawing his teeth, and Louis thinks he might stop breathing. Harry works his way over to the other one and gives it the same treatment, his free hand reaching down to cup Louis through his pants.

 

There’s too many clothes, too many barriers between them. “Off! Get my fucking clothes off.”

 

Harry pulls back and grins. “As you wish.”

 

Louis moans and flicks Harry in the head. It’s entirely deserved, but it also has the desired effect.

 

Harry drags Louis pants down, carefully cradling his ankle as he widens the elastic cuffs and slides his foot out, repeating the process for his other leg, gently avoiding his cut shin.

 

Louis sits up and divests himself of his shirt before laying back down, naked and gazes at Harry wantonly.

 

Harry rolls Louis onto his side and grabs a pillow, slotting it between his knees, returning with another and propping his ankle up. He trails kisses along his shoulders and down his spine, murmuring sweet sentiments into his skin, allowing them to seep in and wrap around Louis’ heart. Louis feels adored, worshipped, loved.

 

Louis grapples with how he can feel so much after so little time, but then again, it’s been a long road. Months of circling each other, being such an integral part of each other’s lives, orbiting and dancing and slipping in and out. Tied together by a force greater than even they had realized, becoming more and more entwined with each passing day. 

 

Louis strokes himself, already fully hard and leaking, using his pre-come to ease the glide. He hears Harry pop the cap of the lube and Louis arches his back, grabbing his butt cheek and spreading himself as much as he can.

 

“Fuck, Lou. So gorgeous. Gonna have to eat you out once you’re healed.”

 

“Mhmmmm… yeah.”

 

Harry slides a slick finger up and down his crack and over his hole, testing the right ring of muscle with gentle pressure.

 

Louis clenches and then relaxes into it, allowing Harry entry. He dips the tip of one finger inside, twisting it around and stroking his other hand up and down Louis’ back.

 

“So tight, Lou. Wanna do so many things to you, with you. Never gonna let you go,” Harry whispers as he pushes in deeper, exploring his walls and opening him up so gently.

 

A second finger joins the first, scissoring him wider with each movement. Louis arches his back further, rotating his hips in small circles, trying to draw Harry into him. “God, Haz. So good,” Louis pants. “Fuck, when my ankle is better I’m gonna ride you into oblivion.”

 

“Yeah, baby. Wanna watch you grind down on me, watch you bounce on my cock.”

 

Louis groans and pushes back onto Harry’s fingers as best he can, planting his hand on the mattress to give himself some leverage. Harry squirts some more lube and it dribbles down Louis’ crack and into his hole, it’s cold and sends a shiver around his body. A third finger is thrust into him, his muscles relaxing to accept the intrusion eagerly. He’s nearly ready, trying hard to stay in the moment but his mind wants to leap forward to what’s going to happen next. How big Harry is going to feel, how stretched he’ll be, how good he’ll make it for him, how tender, how passionate. His anticipation is building, brain fuzzy with desire.

 

Louis snaps back to the present when Harry crooks his fingers just right and hits his prostate dead on. “Oh  _ fuck _ ! Yeah, right there, Haz.”

 

Harry keeps the pressure constant, rubbing tiny circles with one finger, while he continues to stretch him open with the other two. Louis hears the sound of a wrapper tearing and Harry spitting out the remnant.

 

“Shit, you’ve got me so riled up, Lou,” Harry hisses out and Louis turns his head to see Harry rolling the condom down his shaft, grabbing the lube and slicking himself up. His other hand never stops its work inside his hole and it’s an impressive display of coordination. If Louis wasn’t so unbelievably turned on, he’d take the time to tell Harry.

 

Instead, they lock eyes, time hanging on the moment, air stilled and heavy. Louis nods, not breaking their stare.

 

Harry nods once and pulls his fingers out, laying down as Louis turns his head to face away. Harry slots himself in behind him, arm snaking under his head and around to Louis’ chest to hold him in place, the tip of his cock at his rim.

 

“Okay, baby. Gonna go slow. But you need to tell me if I’m hurting you, alright? Your ankle, your shin, anywhere. I know you want this, and fuck, I do too, but we can’t lose ourselves in it.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah okay. You’re right. I promise.”

 

Harry inhales deeply and pushes his hips forward, pulling Louis into his chest as the head of his cock slides in. The pressure is immense, Harry’s breath stuttering as he tries to hold back, hand coming to rest on Louis’ hip.

 

“ _ Shit _ . So tight, Lou. So hot. Fuck.”

 

Louis reaches around and grabs Harry’s arse cheek, guiding him in encouragingly. “Y-yeah. God. You’re so big, Haz. Don’t know how I’m gonna take all of you. Never had anyone this big.”

 

Harry bites at Louis’ shoulder, soothing over the mark with his tongue as he pushes further, the head popping past Louis’ rim. 

 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” they groan in unison as Harry slides in another inch, then stops, laboured breaths filling the air.

 

“More. More, Haz. Keep going,” Louis grits out, sweat beading at his temples. He feels so full already, stretched, zings of pain and pleasure coursing around his body like a current.

 

Harry splays his hand over Louis’ heart as he thrusts forward again, deeper, splitting Louis open.

 

“Nearly there, baby. Doing so well for me. So perfect.”

 

“Feels amazing. Want all of you, don’t hold back.”

 

Harry sucks on his neck, littering kisses everywhere he can reach. “Just a little bit more, nearly there.”

 

Harry pulls back a bit, and drives in with one final push, trembling and panting in Louis’ ear as hips still and his butt cheek clenches under Louis’ hand. “Fuck. Shit. Oh my  _ god _ .”

 

Louis whines and turns his head, seeking out Harry’s mouth. Their kiss is sloppy and more teeth and spit than anything else but it’s perfect.

 

“Just… just let me-“ Louis gasps, filled to bursting.

 

“Y-yeah. Okay, tell me when.”

 

Louis can feel how hard Harry is straining to control himself. It’s admirable and nothing less than he would expect from this kind and generous man. 

 

Louis can feel Harry’s cock in his belly, protruding outwards and that’s something new. He brings his hand to his stomach and pushes at it causing Harry’s hips to stutter.

 

“Jesus Christ. What the hell?”

 

Louis laughs and pushes on it again. The reaction he gets from Harry this time is even funnier.

 

“What the buggering fuck are you doing?”

 

“I am  _ literally _ impaled on you.”

 

Harry growls and okay, maybe it’s less funny than Louis thinks, given how hard Harry is trying to control himself.

 

“Sorry. I’ll behave. You can move now.”

 

“As you wish.”

 

Louis prods at him once more for being a prat. But then Harry pulls out and presses back in and Louis is rendered speechless.

 

“Thought that might shut you up,” Harry says smugly.

 

He sets a slow but constant pace, chest to back, holding Louis tightly. Harry matches Louis’ whines with his own grunts on every thrust.

 

Harry’s holding back, Louis can tell, but it’s still the best sex of his life and it gives him a glimpse of what things will be like once he’s fully healed.

 

Louis digs his fingers into Harry’s arse, and Harry’s increases his speed slightly, changing his angle,  _ that’s it _ . Louis cries out, “Yes! Fuck, right  _ there _ , Haz.”

 

Now that Harry’s found it, he nails Louis’ prostate every time, fingers digging into Louis’ hip, holding him in place. Louis brings his hand up and spits, gripping his cock and stripping it furiously. He’s not going to last much longer and can sense Harry is getting close too, huffing breaths, and muttering obscenities and adorations into Louis’ ear.

 

“God, this is…”

 

“Yeah, I know…”

 

It’s Louis that peaks first, the wave of his orgasm crashing over him and dragging him under as Harry’s hips stutter and he buries himself deep inside, the warmth of his come pulsing into the condom.

 

Louis starts to come down from his high and he registers that Harry is kissing his neck, nibbling on his ear lobe, hot breath fluttering his fringe, hips still moving with gentle little swivels. Louis reaches up and pulls Harry down into a kiss. It’s filled with so much passion; emotions they haven’t expressed, words they haven’t said, and promises of things to come.

 

Harry pulls out and ties off the condom, reaching behind him to lay it on the ground before tightly wrapping Louis in his arms.

 

Louis is the embodiment of fucked-out and he can’t remember ever being this sated or this happy.

 

“How’s your ankle?”

 

“Yeah good. No damage. Let’s go again.”

 

Harry huffs out a laugh. “Jesus, didn’t know you’d be this insatiable.”

 

“Well, you've created a monster. Now that I’ve had a taste I expect to be kept well fed and well fucked from here on out.”

 

“As you wish.”

 

Louis swats him on the arse and Harry squawks, biting him in retaliation. Fair play.

  
  


~~~~

 

Harry bathes Louis and takes a shower, changing the sheets and putting on a load of laundry in the washer-dryer in the kitchen. Niall and Milly stop by before dinner service as promised, bringing plates of food for their dinner. Much to Louis’ disappointment, they’re not even a little bit surprised to find how things have progressed between Harry and him. Niall maintains he’d seen it coming for months, Louis thinks he’s full of shit and tells him so.

 

Louis pouts, but Harry kisses him and fawns over him until Louis can’t even maintain the pretense of being angry anymore.

 

Harry warms their dinner once Niall and Milly have left and sets them up at the coffee table, propping Louis up comfortably and giving him his medication, chatting happily as they eat their meals. Harry cleans up and brings them back some tea and biscuits, flicking on the television and bringing up Netflix.

 

“So, what do you wanna watch?”

 

Louis smiles, turning his head towards Harry. “I’ll give you three guesses. If you don’t get it by the third guess, then we’re clearly not meant to be together.”

 

Harry considers it carefully and then smiles. “Only need one guess, baby.”

 

They snuggle down into each other, Harry’s arm wrapped around Louis’ shoulder as the opening credits of The Princess Bride flicker on the screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for for making it all the way to the end of this little story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Don’t forget to come find me on Tumblr for a chat at [ jacaranda-bloom ](https://jacaranda-bloom.tumblr.com/) and reblog my [ Tumblr fic post ](https://jacaranda-bloom.tumblr.com/post/182956926718/soup-of-the-day-by-jacarandabloom-explicit) if you feel so inclined!
> 
> Comments and kudos always welcome too! xx


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